


No day like today

by Zeryx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Crack and Angst, Dean Has a Sexuality Crisis, Dean has a crush on Charlie, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Dean is Not Heterosexual, Dean-Centric, Detective Castiel, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Gabriel is a Little Shit, Happy Ending, Humor, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Karaoke, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Dean Winchester, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Troll Sam, Voyeur Dean, deskjockey Dean, master criminal Crowley, past Dean/Crowley - Freeform, referenced past sexual assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 23:42:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 54,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4938454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeryx/pseuds/Zeryx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My name's Dean Winchester and I am a master of <em>minding my own damn business</em>. Too bad that makes everyone feel like they should have some say in mine. I stick to myself and got most things people need: good friends, good job, and a good lay on the regular. I can't put my finger on why every day seems so freakin' grey and the <em>same</em>.  So, out of boredom or sheer stupidity, I gave into Gabe's whining and went to queer karaoke night at the punk bar. Let's just say that cop I saw earlier in the day, might've uh, changed things. A bit, yeah. Too bad from there on out my week's gone from kinda' bland to total shit-show.   </p><p>Now, if only everyone would back the fuck off and stop insisting they know what I want better than I do, maybe I could make it to Monday without getting thrown in the nut-house!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thursday afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> This is the very first thing I ever started writing for this fandom. Hell, the first damn thing I wrote after a solid two years of writer's block. None of my other work or hell, even this one past the first 2000 words would exist if it weren't for the love and support of my friends over at [fandomnatural](http://reddit.com/r/fandomnatural), particularly dancingmuffin, who told me, "Hey, yeah you can write Dean pretty good." or something like that ;). I've been passing around bits of this to my friends on IIRC for God only knows how long, and thanks again to [hit_the_books](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books) for her unflagging friendship and feedback. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys really enjoy this. There is angst, and pining, and Dean _super deep in the closet_ , but I promise this is the one story where everyone lives and nothing is ruined. This fic has constantly surprised me from day one with the hilarious shit that gets in here, so I hope you find it even half as funny as I did. Enjoy!

 The important thing to remember about time is that reality is relative. Especially when trying to alter some poor sap's perception of it. Sap in question being yours truly. I'm trying to take a page out of my dumb-ass kid brother's book by listening to this stupid self-help tape on my lunch break. I just feel restless, sometimes, you know? Sam swears up and down that meditation helps, and I'd been so distracted today I barely got any coding done.  

  So it was, I'm sitting there in my baby, listening to this dude droning on as I swear through gritted teeth: Be happy, dammit! On the surface, nothing was wrong or off in my life. I've got friends, a stable job, non-bug infested roof over my head. Family and best friend all in good health. Hell, even gotta girl I hook up with on the regular. And yet... and yet, mother-fucking time. It's always passing so damn slow.  
 I'm only in my 30s but I might as well be in my 70s.

 The sun slants just so, reaching scorching fingers in through the window, and I feel a burning sensation on my shoulder.  That goddamn birthmark. Better not be turning into skin cancer. My stomach rolls with nausea at the thought; I don't want to go out like mom did. That'd been really terrible. An instant after I register foot-steps, there's a knock on the window.  It's a cop, and fuck are his eyes blue. His stare is so intense I'm gulping nervously. What could I have done to piss him off? I roll the window down in a hurry, flashing my best "just us chickens" smile.

 "Hello, officer."

 "Good afternoon," he says as the stereo spits out, "your pain is a hea—" I snap off the volume and finger my collar; the officer's hand is now resting on his gun. He blinks owlishly and puts his hands on the window sill.

 "There was a robbery nearby, have you heard or seen anything unusual?"

 Oh. _Oh_. No wonder this guy is twitchy. Come to think of it—

"Well there was this douche-bag that peeled out of here in a Toyota. Guess that was ten minutes ago. No idea what his deal was."

 The cop swipes his tongue across his lips as he gets out a notepad. His hands and gaze are steady. He flips a new page open. "Make, model?"

 "Black. Probably early 2000's. Two-door piece of crap, probably a Civic." I swallow thickly as his creeper stare intensifies.

 "What were you doing out here at this time, Mr...?"

 "Winchester. Just eating lunch and listening to a dumb tape on my break. Where'd this guy hit, anyway?" We're in the middle of an industrial park.

 Officer Death-Stare's lips thinned into a pink line. "Would you be available in case your assistance in identifying the vehicle is required?"

 "I guess. I mean, for what it's worth." I roll my shoulders and open the glove-box, noticing the cop's shoulders bunching up out of the corner of my eye. Paranoid son of a bitch. I hand over my business card. His fingertips are dry but I sweat right onto him, as I pass the card over. Crap. Guess cops still give me the jeebies since I got busted for joy-riding as a teenager.

 He accepts the card, flipping his notepad closed. "Thank-you, Mr. Winchester. Your co-operation is appreciated."

 I give him a two-finger salute. "Anyone would do the same, officer...?"

 "Novak." He hands me a card of his own. "Call me if you can think of any other details. Good-day."

 Weird dude. His card goes in my pocket. I blink and he's already five paces away from the car. Huh. Fast. I note the crisp seams straight down his navy trousers. He doesn't fit the stereotypes about cops and doughnuts, that's for sure. I roll my shoulders and sigh, glad it's over. The sour cream and onion potato chips and left-over jerk chicken I had for lunch sit uneasily in my stomach. The shoulders on my shirt feel too tight, my collar too. Guess I've been cooped up in here for too long. Only got another five minutes on break, anyway. I get out of my car, lock with the push of a button and pat baby's roof fondly before heading back to work.

 Walking over to the other side of the building, my phone rings. I pause in the shadow of an over-hang, and pull it out. It's my brother. "Yeah?"

 "So get this: The place next door to your work got robbed! The whole thing's on Youtube, dude."

 "Chill out there, Samantha. Yeah I just got squeezed by officer friendly in the parking lot. Didn't know it was so close, though. What the fuck happened? Guy played it tighter than a juvie kid's asshole."

 "Some mobile games developer got their pricey shit fleeced. Total bummer."

 "What, you're telling me angry birds needs 1000$ computers now?"

 Sam snorts. "You'd be surprised."

 "You'd know, Mr.Skeezy porn guy."

 "Whatever. I'm not the one keeps harassing those "It's not Star Trek" porn guys asking when they're going to get a Riker look-alike because of your super obvious crush!"

 "Hey! Riker is so manly it's more gay to **not** have a crush on him. Shut your whore mouth!"

 "Yeah, yeah. Well, whatever. Here, I've sent you the Youtube link."

 "Thanks. I'll check it out in a bit. Later."

 "Later."

 It seems a bit livelier than usual as I cross the offensively beige lobby. Between the grey-speckled ceiling panels, paint, and fluorescent lights it's like the 80s barfed in here. "Hey guys." a few of my buddies are engaged in speculation about the flashing red and blue lights in the distance, but my break's about up and I don't want to get into shit with my boss, Ellen. This close to a new release, everyone's on a short leash.

 My desk is about how I left it—pretty clean and with the screen turned off. I push the power button and see the wallpaper's been fucked with. _Again_. It's a screenshot of the Rocky Horror Picture Show with my head pasted onto Rocky's body.  

 "Fucking Gabriel," I swear under my breath. He has been goddamn relentless in insisting we go to "Beers for Queers" the gay karaoke night held the last Thursday of the month at the dive punk bar downtown. Only the west coast, I swear to Christ. The icing on the cake? A speech balloon that says "I'm a Frankie fan" coming out of Rocky's mouth, despite that being Janet's line and Rocky being a mute. I sniff indignantly, then pull up a stock photo of the horsehead nebula on google to replace the cheesy wallpaper and resume work. My job's not super-exciting, but I can't really talk about it. I do system security programming, develop crypto-key generators and stuff like that. I like fixing things so people find them impossible to take apart. I might even kind of get off on the idea that once I put something together nobody else can break it. When I was in my teens, I got into some really shady stuff, and if I hadn't ended up in jail for something else entirely I probably would've ended up in way more serious trouble. 

I open the remote desktop program and amuse myself for a couple minutes clicking random shit open on Gabe's computer while he's ass-deep on bug fixes for the new release. I hear swearing from across the room. Chuckling, I settle into finishing out the day, finding my place and continuing to tweak shit. A few hours later, a message pops up on Mumble.

 Godgiven: Hey bra you know Charlie'd luv to go too. Her ginger-ass would be all over it. ;)

 I groan and scrub my hands through my hair.

Winbester: Maybe.

I have a hopeless crush on Charlie. She's like the little sister I never had and it gets me going. I want to bend over backwards for her and have her order me around, make me eat her under her desk and deny me any kind of release. Yank me around by a collar. I know it's sick and wrong but that just makes it hotter. Watching all that Japanese porn anime from a young age probably wasn't good for me. Except for where, oh yeah it totally was.

 Godgiven: Definitely. Idk why you're fighting me on this. I know how much you love karaoke!

 Winbester: You just want to see me make an ass of myself.

 Godgiven: And what an ass! .:smirk:.

 Winbester: Get out of here. Aren't you on company time?

 Godgiven: Point?

 With a sigh I check the clock. Two minutes. Ok, whatever. Guess I spent a couple minutes zoned out thinking about Charlie in thigh-highs, a criminally short mini-skirt, twin pony-tails and a leash in hand. Oops, there I go again. I'm a grown man, dammit! My cheeks are burning. Jesus. Yeah getting drunk around Charlie who I know is _so gay_ and whining out my feelings by butchering a song by Muse is a great idea. Fucking Gabriel.

 Winbester: .... so I guess this is happening.

**Fuck**.


	2. Thursday: early evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thursday night: Gabriel and Dean get spiffed out in ridiculous outfits and head out to make mischief at queer karaoke night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, the crack storm begins....

Yanno', I always say if you're going to do something, do it all the way.  
So I channel my inner Gary King:  
Spiked hair, check.  
Heavy eye-liner, check.  
Smudged eye-liner in dark circles under my eyes, check.  
Studded leather collar, check.  
Shit-kickers in a fucking hideous shade of puke green, check.  
Ripped up fishnet stockings made into a tacky mesh shirt, check.  
Sisters of Mercy shirt with the arms ripped off, check.  
Ripped up fishnet stockings on my legs, check.  
Plaid skirt, err-- kilt, check.  
Ugly beat to shit trenchcoat, avec Watchmen smiley-face pin check check (I pop the collar for extra douche points).

I eye an old tube of lipstick my fuck-buddy left behind on my ancient battered pine dresser, and my pits get sweaty. Must be wearing this stupid heavy coat indoors.  
Yeah, that's it.  
With ninja timing, there's a knock at the door. I jog the forty feet from my tiny bedroom, pause to look in the hall mirror and rub my hands through my hair.

"Mary, can Dean come out to play?"

"Piss _off_ , Gabriel! Two seconds, man!" Check myself over one last time and turn to get the door. "Hey dude."

Gabriel is wearing a bunch of rainbow-coloured garbage, looking like rainbow-brite threw up on him. Well, at least he didn't go full Bowie this time. Nobody needs to see an obvious rolled up pair of tube-socks in a grown man's tights. NOBODY.

"Yo. Same shit as last time, eh?" He smirks. "I see you break out the skirt for the second date," His smirk deepens, eyes sparkling like the special douche snow-flake he is.

"Proud tradition, man. Takes confidence to pull this shit off." I sniff. "The 90s called and Punky Brewster wants her look back, bee tee double-you."

Gabe just grins, "Thank-you."  
Looking over his admittedly diminutive shoulders, there's no one in tow.

"Hey, where's the Charlsborough man?"

"She's already at Funky Winkerbean's with a hot date," Gabe wriggles his eyebrows.

My lips twist. "Natch." I kinda' wanted to get all the jibes about my appearance out of the way at once. I mean, I KNOW I look awesome, but shit gets old. We trek over to Gabriel's cramped-ass Gremlin and stuff ourselves in. I only have a moment's warning of seeing Gabe fiddle with his stereo before I get smacked in the ear-drums with the He-man version of Four Non-Blonde's "What's goin' on".

"Warm-up time!" Gabe crows delightedly. Rolling my eyes but following along, I mumble the first verse half-heartedly while my idiot companion sings his with a mocking contralto. However, we get to the chorus and both start screaming "Hey-yay-yay-yeah" like two demented howler monkeys. Good times.

I'm getting jazzed, skin getting tingly and goose-pimply; pits sweating as I drum my hands enthusiastically on the dashboard. We pull into the parking lot and Gabe flashes his lights for no damn reason. Idiot.

My step is light and I jangle in place as Gabe locks up his car. "Watch out, douche-fags! Duck and cover, hide yo' kids, hide yo' wives, we're raping e'rybuddy's ear-drums up in here!" I yell. Some smokers near the door give me weird looks, but hell if I care.

Gabe smirks sardonically at me, "All this and not a drop of liqour yet! Let's fix that," he winks. Enabler.

I just grin like an idiot, running my hands through my hair to make it stick up even more. "Hell yeah, dudebro. Let's DO this!" We link arms at the elbows and strut in like it's fucking Saturday night fever. Damn did I need this. With all the glitter covering him, I can almost pretend my co-worker is some kind of evil pixie. Or Leprechaun? Either way, this is already shaping up to be weirder than a David Lynch film!

The coat-check girl looks bored as shit. Well, there is barely anyone here yet. She's made up like a zombie version of Buffy the Vampire slayer, x's mimicking stitches painted over her lips.

"Slow night?" We flash our i.d.'s like we're bullshit secret agents.  
ZomBuffy nods and taps a sign: "Cover, 5$, Coatcheck 2$"

"Cool.Cool,cool,cool. We'll be able to massacre lots of songs!" Grinning, I pass over 7$ and start peeling off my trenchcoat while Gabe forks over a fiver. He heads over to the bar as I hand off my coat. "You want some excitement, we can pretend that's an invisibility cloak later," I wink at Zombuffy. She rolls her eyes.

I pout, "Baby. Don't hurt me. Don't hurt me. No more," and bee-line for the dj's table to check out the song book. The lights are pretty damn dim, and it's not the easiest time in the world trying to make out the titles under the flashing lights. At least the smoke machine's not going yet. This place gets a serious dungeon vibe going with the old red brick and dingy lights. It's almost creepy. The black-and-white zig-zag tile on the floor straight out of Twin Peaks is a bitch when you're wasted, too.

 _Flip, flip flip flip_. Can't find what I want. I try the second book, the one by artist instead of title. Ah, there we go. I scribble "Muse - Hysteria" and "Deanmon" in the blanks of the song request slips with a handy keno pencil. Flip,flip,flip. Yahtzee. Dio - Holy Diver. Scribble scribble. One more, leave 'em laughin'— my ears perk up at a wolf whistle. Whipping around, there's Charlie. In a mother-fucking catgirl outfit. Ears, tail, leather jacket. Chaps and a thong. I swear she KNOWS.

"Nice legs, Fishnets-Magee!"

"Find a nice fireman and get stuck up a tree! This ain't hallowe'en, yanno'!"

"Could've fooled me. I'm wearing black and leather, close enough, yeah?" She tilts her head towards my face and grins, well, in a decidedly feline fashion. Gulp.

"I heard you got a hot date. Don't tell me it's with the wahl massager in your purse?" I smirk and finish putting in my last song request.

"Wahl massager? You raided your grandma's night-stand, too? I mean, pfft! Please, bitch! I've got a fine speciman lined up, eff why eye. She's just working." Charlie gestures back towards the door. Ah.

"She's uh—decidedly tight-lipped," I mutter as we head towards Gabriel and the low, solid oak bar. It looks as beat to shit, scratched, and covered in graffiti as ever.

"She's very into role-playing," Charlie beams. She taps Gabriel on the shoulder,

"Look what the cat dragged in!"

"Har har har. You think you're **so** cute." Charlie sticks her tongue out at him.

"I don't think so, I know so," Gabriel hands us shots, some blue and pink blueshit.

I roll my eyes and raise my glass "Banzai!"  
We all down our shots.

Charlie grimaces. "Porn-stars, again? Seriously?"

"Really really, for real," Gabriel collects our shot-glasses and puts them on the bar.

Rolling my neck and shoulders, I say "Whatever, it's his dime, flea-bag."

"Charming. Just for that, we're doing a duet to Sir-Mix-a-Lot!"


	3. Thursday night: early evening part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quality Gabe/Charlie banter and Dean takes the stage!

"Riiiiight." damn, that shot had been like drinking pure syrup. It's still quiet, so I wave the bartender over."Round of tequila, dude." I hand over enough cash to cover it, and inside a minute we're all clinking glasses and downing our shots. 

"Seriously Gabe, your taste in liqour sucks." 

"Takes one to know one." 

"Yeah yeah." 

"We should really get our song requests in before it gets busy in here." 

I nod, and try not to be too obvious staring at Charlie's almost naked ass as we make our way back to the dj booth. "So when's your date going to make time to make time?" Gabe wriggles his eyebrows at me as we come to a stop and wait for Charlie. 

"She'll get a half hour break once the place fills up." 

"Does she sing too?" 

Charlie grins, "No, but I can be persuasive." 

"Our poor ear drums," I groan. 

Gabriel snorts, "No doubt a drop in the bucket compared to what you're going to do to the place." 

Huffing, I fold my arms, tap my foot, and deadpan "My heart, spun from the finest most delicate crystal, just shattered beyond repair." 

The dj, wearing a tattered black sundress and heavy eye-liner, grabs the microphone and turns it on, "Hello! I hope you're all ready to have a good time! First up, I'm playing Cindy Lauper's "Time After Time". Keep getting your requests in, let's get this underway!" She strides over to the small area of the floor cleared for "performing" and starts singing with a husky, perfectly on-key voice. She ignores the monitor scrolling lyrics in favour of slow-dancing for the crowd. 

Gabriel's eyes light up and he grins broadly, "a woman after my own heart. Nice." I snatch up the scrap of paper I'd started earlier, push it onto his back and ignore his indignant noises as I finish writing. Charlie scribbles out two requests while a line forms behind her and Gabriel. I push the slip into her hand. 

"I'm gonna' grab us a booth and some beers," I point to a corner booth half-way between the stage and the restroom, and start ambling over. My friends nod as I pass them.  
 I snag the booth and my foot taps up and down, jiggling my knee. The soft pop song playing is not doing anything for my nerves. It's the wait that gets to me. My mood's going south and my mouth is dry. I flag down a waitress; she's dressed in punk regalia. I order a jug of the cheapest beer on tap, ask for three glasses, and blow out a breath the moment her back's turned. It's a struggle to stop from scrubbing my hands over my face. The song ends, and I'm scowling into my lap. 

"Our next performer is Boris, with "Devil in Disguise!" Boris, come on up!" Boris? Of all the .... I snap my head up to see a short middle-aged guy in an impeccably tailored suit with a cape and gaudy costume jewelry approach the stage. I guess he's supposed to be a vampire. A queer vampire? Quampire? Vamqueer? Whatever. He does a passable croon. 

The beer comes, and then so do Gabriel and Charlie. We catch up for a bit while we wait, and the tension is killing me. The first song is always the hardest. Charlie looks at me oddly, then looks at Gabe, and he just shrugs.   
 "So... what the hell are you supposed to be?" 

"Pfft, you've never heard of a graver before?" At Charlie's blank look, Gabe continues, "A goth raver." 

"A rainbow tube-top, speedo, and furry knee to floor leg-warmers? What kind of weather is that supposed to be for?" 

"Sex flurries, with a forecast of 90% splooge." 

"Oh gross!" Charlie shrieks. 

"Whatever, kitten. Mee-oww," Gabriel pouts, flipping strands of his ridiculous black, pink, and purple stripped wig over his shoulder. Charlie laughs; I snort into my beer, shoulders feeling looser. I tune out the next few songs, and Charlie gets up to visit coat-check girl. 

"Bee Arr Bee," Charlie says. My eyebrows twitch. That is ridiculous. It literally takes the same amount of time to actually say "be right back". Of course that's the point. Sometimes ironic humour is annoying. 

"Gotta' hit the head," Gabriel scoots to the edge of the booth and walks to the bathroom in a deliberate sashay on his platform boots. Pffft. I grin into my beer, glancing up at the stage to see who's on now. Plain White T's "Delilah" is winding down; as I pay attention, the awful singing bleeds through. It's a skinny little emo guy. Oh thank God it's almost over. He looks so earnest though, I feel a bit bad for him. 

"Next up, Deanmon with "Holy Diver!" Deanmon, please come up!" _Oh_. Oh shit, I choke on my beer and try to remember how to breathe as I cross over to the mic stand. My hands sweat so badly I nearly drop the mic as I attempt to pick it up. I'm almost vibrating and I slap on a big grin as the first chords of the shortened intro play. Sweat drips down my wrist onto the floor. 

"Mmmmmmhhhmhmmm, yeah yeah," I growl into the microphone, staring at the floor and then snapping my eyes back up to the audience as the first verse starts. "Holy Diver! You've been down too long in the midnight sea, oh what's becoming of me," I continue growling through the lyrics, shoulders loosening up as I nod in time to the relentless beat. Damn I love this song. 

"Ride the tiger! You can see his stripes but you know he's clean, oh don't you see what I mean," I fall into the song, ham it up, over-pronunciate every word, my voice building. I flash a grin at Gabriel as he comes back and slides into our booth. I clown around, so into it, punching and kicking the air, doing air guitar for the super-bitchin' guitar solo. I make sure to eye-fuck everyone in the room as my confidence and adrenaline high sky-rocket.


	4. Thursday: mid-evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. f/f incoming! Also Dean being a pervert.

"Hey, I'm gettin' some air!" I yell at Gabe. 

"I'm up soon, don't be gone long!" 

"K!" I'm covered in sweat. The crowd fucking loved me. My chest is puffed up with pride, and I'm buzzing like I just drained a whole pack of redbull.  
I amble over to the coat-check, and Charlie's drinking a fuckin' muff-diver out of Zombuffy's lap as she perches on the counter. The blonde is angled a bit sideways, to reach one hand on top of Charlie's wrists, keeping her from using her hands to drink from the glass. My throat, already dry, becomes desert. I skirt around the small crowd of on-lookers, eventually giving up and shoving through near the end. 

"I uh, I need my freakin' coat..." I mumble, stepping level to the counter to look over at Zombuffy. Charlie grins Cheshire-like up at me, with her head cocked to one side, cream smeared all around her mouth. I snort, covering up the stuttering of my heartbeat. "Obvious much?" 

Charlie winks at her date, and ignores me to address her: "Oh dear, I seem to have something on my face. Can you help me get it?"  
Zombuffy wordlessly gestures for Charlie to stand up. As she rises, Zombuffy takes Charlie's face between her delicate-looking, long fingered hands, palms cupping her cheeks as she licks deliberately at the corners of her mouth. The back of my neck itches and burns. 

"Coat. Please," I grind out, and from a bit further into the coatcheck booth, Zombuffy's presumable replacement comes. I'm so busy looking while not looking at the spectacle going on three feet away from me that I barely register her, handing over the ticket I'd stashed between my tights and underwear (had to go somewhere). I grab my trenchcoat with hands that shake only a little and march back past the bathrooms and out into the alley. 

I take a deep breath of the stale beer smell of the alley, grateful to be outside. My feet take me a short distance from the door, almost to the corner of the building where a breeze is blowing in from the east. I put my coat on. 

Grabbing my phone from my pocket to check the time, I notice there's a new text message I haven't read. Clicking it open, I see it's the link Sam said he'd send me earlier, about the robbery across the street from work. I click it open, and as the seconds tick by, my blood runs cold. It was that fucker Crowley.  
We'd been tight in highschool and the night the cops caught us joy-riding, he'd sold me downriver in a plea-bargain. the result was I stayed in juvie a lot longer than necessary as the judge'd been harder on me for it not being a first-time offense. Mother-fucker, what was was his stupid ass doing poking his nose around here? 

I pull the cop's number out of my wallet and run a thumb along the paper's edge. I should call officier se— uh, officer Novak. What if Crowley was fleeing town instead of sticking around the area? I shake my head and let out a breath. Officer Novak would probably insist I head to the station to give my statement, and I didn't want to be down at the cop-shop dressed like this. Fuck that! I'm getting some much needed party-time. I'm not going to let that ferret-faced traitor Crowley ruin anything else for me, including today! I stuff the cop's number back in my wallet. 

The door creaks open, and a soft pair of giggles makes me whip around, peering into the dim lighting. There's the soft gleam of leather, black on one curvy figure and white with red—a varsity jacket—on the other. I catch a flash of creamy flesh as small hands shove up over thigh-high athletic socks and under a pleated skirt. I hear a familiar whisper, and duck around the corner on instinct. Fuck. I should just tell Charlie to get a room, but— my ears start to burn, and my dick gives a twitch. 

I barely angle my head around the building. Shit, they are really going at it. Charlie's backed against the wall to the side of the door, Zombuffy's knee stuck between her legs. My little redhead is grinding onto her date's thigh, their mouths mashing together furiously. Shit. _shit_. My dick is way too interested in this. They are right by the door, and I'd have to walk through ten blocks of sketchy back alley in the wrong part of town to reach the front door. 

Charlie moans, and it's a flash of lightning up my spine. Zombuffy is getting on her knees, which are covered by her socks. My dick's hard enough to pound nails. A stream of curses flash across my mind in rhythm with my furiously drumming heart. This is, this is... fuck. **Fuck!** Charlie's thong is pushed aside, and there's a baseball lodged in my throat. Dinner and a show! This is wrong, wrong, wrong, which just makes it worse and better at the same time, like the first time I saw tentacle porn. My skin is swarming with ants, Charlie's bracing herself against the wall; she groans a curse as slender black-nailed fingers move in and out of her. I'm acutely aware of the fishnet covering my chest all of a sudden, the rub of sensitive skin up against the coarse nylon. I can _feel_ something snap.  
I'm just a man, dammit! My hands go under my kilt; my fingers shred the nylon web of my tights, making a hole in the crotch so I can get my junk out past my lacey underwear. The flat of my palm skates along my dick without my say-so. God, how am I going to look Charlie in the eyes after this? I bite off a groan, watching Charlie nibbling at her spit-damp lips, already puffing up from chewing. She's fucking quivering; Zombuffy must be good, I don't think she's going to hold out much longer, from the way Charlie's hand darts into the blonde's hair and grabs with white knuckles. My hand's fully gripping my dick, and I don't remember curling my fingers. Zombuffy's face is suddenly in profile, and she looks in my direction as she twists her fingers in and out of Charlie, pausing to deliberately suck at the slim taper of her fingers, glistening in the dim emergency lighting. 

Oh fuck. Does she—maybe—the half-formed thought shorts something in my brain, and I'm rocking into my hand with abandon as blondie rips Charlie's thong down to her ankles and dives in with gusto. Charlie's startled cry as her hips buck wildly shocks all three of us. There she goes, my little girl trembling and bucking like a live wire, and there's her o-face, jaw falling slack as she seizes in a sight burned behind my eyelids and never to be unseen; my thighs become stone, a hot spurt covers my hand in a flash of lighting burning like shame as Charlie _wails_. 

OH GOD, OH GOD, what did I just do? I look at my hand, disgusted with the evidence of my transgression. I bring it to my mouth, cleaning it off in fast sucks and licks, before it can get on my sleeve, kilt, or boots. The salty not-quite egg white taste accelerates the nausea rolling in across my stomach like a summer storm with the shame burning in my gut. My throat feels closed, the jizz refusing to slide down. I must've lost some time because Charlie and her date are nearly back inside the door. "I need a goddamn drink." 

I hear the hiss of a match behind me and suck a breath in through my teeth. Not bothering to push my half-hard dick back through the hole I'd torn in my tights and back into my underwear, I just put a hand in my pocket and drag my coat in front of me as I whip around. 

"What is this, grand central station?!" 

A soft chuckle about ten feet away makes me drag my feet around the other side of the fenced off dumpster. On the other end of a burning ember a gentle, crooked smile greets me. The bear of a man takes a drag and waves his fingers. "Maybe," he drawls in a melty southern accent that does strange things to my insides. "Certainly the time o' day for takin' out the trash if you work at a busy bar." 

I just nod, dumbly. "You didn't see anything." 

Again, that low chuckle, "Enough to make me not want to shake your hand hello." 

The tips of my ears burn, and my dick gives a traitorous twitch. "Yeah, ok, 10-4 buddy." His blue eyes twinkle like fuckin' Dumbledore. What the hell is with these ho—  
uhh, intimidating blue-eyed bastards today? 

"I won't tell no-one... not a soul, honest. This ain't the first time Zelda's gotten frisky on shift. Ain't your fault you got caught in the cross-fire, bless your heart and little cotton socks," he smirks. 

"Riiiight. I'm uh, I'm gonna' go back inside now." 

"You jus' run along now. Not a peep from me, friend." 

Fucking pervert was probably watching anyway. He loomed over me, eye-level higher than the dumpster. Taking one hell of a long smoke break, suspicious creep. I snort and put my bits back in order on the way back inside.


	5. Thursday: evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long update this week! Hope y'all enjoy.  
> The karaoke scene you never knew you wanted until I wrote it.  
> Cas like you've never seen him, too. Enjoy!

I pick my way back towards the door in a daze. The bottom's about finished dropping out of my stomach, and my vision's gone slightly blurry. Good timing on my liver's part, no-one's going to question me coming back flushed. 

A soft warble greets my ears, and it's Gabe singing—of course—Asia. He sings "Only Time Will Tell" with cynicism, and my heart twists a bit in solidarity as he goes into a near whisper on the bridge, "One thing for sure... that time will tell. If you were wrong, the brightest ring around the moon... will darken when I die." 

I blow him a double whistle as he smiles impishly and bows off stage. He saunters over and I thump him on a glitter-sprayed shoulder. 

"Buddyeeee! that asshole sure did a number on you, huh?" spills past my stupid loose lips. I flinch but hold his gaze, genuinely wanting to know. 

His eyes are warm without a hint of mistiness. "Yeah. but that was then." He rolls his eyes in dismissal. "Where's Red?" 

I shrug and my eyes dart left. "Saw her with her date, guess they're in the bathroom "powdering their noses"." 

Gabe raises an eyebrow, "With what, their pubes?"  
Thank God for alcohol. I feel hotter but can't get any redder. 

Charlie appears with Zelda, I guess her name is, carrying a tray full of shots. "I heard that, jack-ass," she grins. 

Gabe puts both palms up. "Nail me to the cross for my sins if I speak a word of lie,"he says with mock seriousness. 

My eyes dart over to Zelda, who gives zero hint of reaction. I lick my lips, worry on the edge of them, then shut my mouth with a clack of teeth as we make our way over to the booth. My eyes are fixed on anywhere and everywhere except Charlie and her blatantly obvious sex hair. 

As usual, Gabe saves me from myself. "So, little lady, what's your name?" 

The blonde stares at him for a moment as Charlie drinks some water, and I blurt "Zelda." Fuck. My hands twitch with the urge to scrub them across my face. Charlie gives me an odd look and I run a hand through the hair at the back of my neck in studied casualness. I quirk the left side of my mouth in a fake grin.  
"Asked a cook I passed on his way to a smoke break who the raunchy blonde macking on my friend was." 

Zelda remains unreadable, but Charlie grins and gets a little redder. Of course, that could be the alcohol. 

"Benny." 

"My god, she talks!" 

Zelda shrugs, "I'm still on break, not the end of the world if I break character for a minute. So, big blond guy with a southern accent?" 

"Yuh-huh," I mumble. Zelda smirks, and Charlie looks suspicious. "Oh yeah, I'll have to go say hello later," Gabe chimes in. Fuck he's a friend of Gabe's? What if— quick, a distraction! 

"So, what've got here?" I point at the drinks. 

"Broken-down golf-carts." 

"Classic!" Gabe rubs his hands together. Charlie rolls her eyes but gives a small smile. 

"Whatever, pal" I pick up my shot, and everyone follows suit.  


***

  


"She-bop? You want me to do _She-bop_? No, Charlie, no!" 

"Yes, Dean, yes," Gabe smirks. 

"Pllleeeeease?" Charlie gives me the fuckin' puss-in-boots saucer eyes and takes her lower lip between her teeth. 

I scrub my hands over my face, and catch a whiff of jizz. I hadn't had the chance to wash my hands yet. The back of my neck is on fire, and I suck in a breath through my clenched teeth. "Booze. _Now_." 

Charlie gives an excited little clap of her hands, and I look up to see Gabe quirking an eyebrow at me and somehow looking even smugger than usual. Fuck my life. I flag down a waitress, and attempt to stare a hole into the ground, so I can jump into it. 

Gabe tuts at me. **Tuts** , like a fucking nun from school. I look up at him. "Now now, I'll be up there too. Maybe even Zelda?" He looks over at her with a hopeful waggle of the eyebrows. She shakes her head and points toward the coat-check area.  
"Right. Oh well." 

Our waitress returns. "Hey, what can I get you?" 

My smile is brittle with false cheer, "Zombies. Double zombies." 

"Sure thing," she gives Zelda a pointed look, and zips off. 

"Stick in the mud," Charlie pouts. Zelda gives Charlie a peck on the cheek, slides out of the booth and heads in the direction of her post. Charlie huffs a sigh. "Isn't it about my turn yet?" 

I hide a smile at her impatience behind the rim of my glass and commence draining my double zombie in one long swallow. 

"Alright! Up next is Castiel with "Hallelujah!" Castiel, come on up!"  
Pff, what kind of name is that? Something tickles at the back of my mind. Had I read that name somewhere? I look up to get a load of the guy, and choke on my drink. I hastily put my glass down and Gabe squeezes over, thumping me on the back. "Whoa! Easy there, buddy!" 

"'M alright, 'm alright," I choke out. 

Charlie is watching me with raised eyebrows. "Is doing Cyndi Lauper really so terrible? I mean everyone goes through a phase where they dig her, right? I mean, at least if you're an 80s kid..." 

Officer Novak is taking the stage, and even from 30 yards away it feels like his gaze is spearing straight through me. His whiskey rough voice is a great match for the song... he sways a bit into it, but mostly stares, gaze searing across the sea of faces populating the bar. Periodically, his hand slides up and down the mic stand, or along a hip, up over his stomach, revealing a flash of hard muscle. 

Cheeks burning, I resume chugging my drink. Dude definitely knows this song is about orgasms, chorus so full of gravel it feels like I've been chained to a 4x4 and dragged behind it down a dirt road. 

He's wearing an outfit that's a riff on 80s Billy Idol; leather vest and pants, mesh undershirt and half-gloves, biker boots and a couple rings in one ear. His hair is spiked up wildly like he just fucked the shit out of someone. The odd thing though, was the small pair of black-feathered wings on his back. 

Gabriel's eyes are glazed over, this dumb smile on his face. "Look at that, my little bro's come such a long way," he sheds a manly tear. 

"Uh, what?" Charlie says. 

"'Scuse me?" 

"That guy," Gabe slurs, pointing at officer Novak as the latter sets the mic down, to clapping and a couple wolf whistles "'S my step-brudder." 

"He's hot," Fuck! "I mean, all that leather? Can't be comfy." The place isn't packed wall-to-wall, but there are still a lot of bodies in here.  
Charlie and Gabriel both look sideways at me, but let it slide by some miracle. 

"That's great! Can we meet him?" 

"Pff—a' course!" 

I look down at my empty glass, "I kinda' met him earlier. He was on the job." Gabe looks at me curiously, twirls two fingers in a "go on" gesture. "'Z he always... that intense?" 

Gabe chuckles. 

"Charlie! Charlie please come on up for "She-bop!" 

I groan. Now? It had to be now? 

Charlie bounces in her seat, then gets up. "Yes!" she crows. Oh, guess that was out-loud. She comes around to the other side of the booth and grabs my wrist.  
"C'moooon!" I twist on the bench, plant my feet on the floor, and get up. It takes a couple moments longer than I expect. 

"Gabe, you too!" Everything's fuzzy, yay. Oh, the humiliation hype train is tunneling at full speed straight to bonerville, population: me. Gabe gives an exaggerated wave in his bro's direction as we stagger over to the stage. I shake out my hands like the nerves will fly off with the drops of sweat I spatter onto the floor. 

We stand in a triangle as the familiar synth bass-line starts up, nodding in rhythm, keeping our eyes on each-other. I tap my foot, Charlie and Gabe wriggle their hips. Plastering on a smile, God help me, my body feels like a plucked string, excitement building. Having kept time, we start dancing; we manage to not hit each-other as Charlie starts singing. 

"We-ll I see them every night in tight blue jeans, in the pages of a Blue Boy magazine. Hey I've been thinking of a new sensation, I'm picking up a good vibration! Ooh she bop, she bop." She starts with subtle gestures as she bounces, progressing to running her hands all over her body, playing with the strap of her thong over her hips. Gabe plays right along with her, and it's as disgusting as it hilarious. 

"Do I want to go out with a lion's roar? Huh, yeah, I want to go south and get me some more." Laughter's coming from all sides, and my face is split open with it. Yeah, good thing Zelda had to return to work. 

Charlie sings, "Hey, they say that a stitch in time saves nine; they say I better stop or I'll go blind. Ooh she bop, she bop," while Gabe draws me in for a sloppy kiss right next to my mouth, blocking us so it looks like we're making out to the crowd. Shaking with silent laughter, I follow his lead, shamelessly bouncing my hips into his to the beat while Charlie sings the first chorus. Then I grab Charlie with one hand for the musical interlude. I spin her in front of me, and praise little baby Jesus for alcohol, as my dick only shows a little bit of interest while I cup her hips, humping her like a dog while Gabe does the same to me. 

My face is flaming, but I'm loose and giddy, with friendship, alcohol, and the mango scent of Charlie's hair in my nose, her ass bumping my crotch. I'm the filling in a hobbit sandwich! This is ridiculous. I re-enact my favourite scene from American Psycho, flexing my bicep and kissing it before putting my hand behind my head, swinging my arm in a circle as I point and continue humping Charlie in time. I am definitely not thinking about the semi Gabe is banging into the back of my thigh, no way! 

Charlie breaks off and resumes singing, dirty little pants and moans in the song and all. She toys with the edges of her clothing, running her free hand up and down her body, watching Gabe and I dance dirty while we eye-fuck each-other for the crowd's amusement. When the verses end, Charlie passes the mic to Gabe and he does a passable chorus, his panting cartoonish. He runs a finger along the inside edges of his ridiculous rainbow speedo as he pumps his hips. 

My face is hurting from grinning so hard as I dance dirty with Charlie, skimming my mouth up along one elfin ear as she humps my thigh just because I can and I'm a total bastard. Gabe passes the mic to me for the last chorus and he dances dirty with Charlie, giving a little twirl before reeling her in and running his hands all over her hips and sides while I sing the nonsense chorus that boils down to everyone masturbates, and sometimes they masturbate each-other, hopefully God's cool with that. I roll my hips and clown it up, making an exaggerated jerking off motion first at my crotch, and then into my mouth as the chorus winds down and I eye-fuck the crowd into next week. The crowd is fucking howling, whistling, clapping and laughing. "I love e'ryone in this bar!" I slur, with a wink. 

Charlie grabs the mic from me and laughs; Gabe claps me on the back. 

"Thank-you! We'll be here all night!" The crowd claps harder and Charlie puts the mic back on the stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm closing in on finishing this thing! it's maybe 80% written now. There are many more chapters, just thought I'd keep my handful of dedicated fans apprised. There is an ending in sight!


	6. Thursday night: Evening part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean drunk-dials Sam, Castiel accosts Dean in an alley. The first of many awkward conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Referenced past Dean/Crowley. Not that it you know, happened, according to Dean.

I head back out the door and into the alley again, because apparently it's the time of night where I drunk dial my little brother. "Sammmmaaaaaay" 

Sam groans, "Dean? What the fuck?" 

"Hey. _Hey_. **So, guess what. Guess what!"**

"Oh my God, _what_ you drunken asshole?" 

"I kinda' saw Charlie gettin' her freak on in an alley." I am not giggling, no way, no idea what those noises coming my throat are. Definitely not hysteria. 

"Haha, dude, no way! She must've been so embarrassed." 

"She has no idea, dude!" I laugh hysterically. "I jacked off and she didn't know and then this viking saw me and then officer Deathstare showed up an' he's Gabe's step-brother an' Charlie made me do she-bop and we all humped eachother and it was hilarious!" 

"Dean...seriously dude, what the hell. So wrong." 

"Oh it wassss greaaat. Great Sammy! Everyone laughed so hard, and Gabe totally wasn't getting a boner, no way. That totally didn't happen." 

" **No**. Dean, you _know_ what I mean, man." 

"I know, Cyndi Lauper? Psssh, I'm way too macho for that shit!" 

"Dean..." 

"Ohhh Sammy, I can hear the bitchface from here! Hahahaha priceless!" 

"Arrgh, fuck this. Listen, call me when you're sober and, you know, capable of regret." 

"Oh I regret alright. I regret the day God gave me a little brother who has no appreciation of live girl-on-girl porn for the low price of **free dollars**." 

Sam makes a disgusted noise. "Christ." 

"Love's not a victory march, IT'S A COLD AND BROKEN HALLELUJAH, SAMMY!" I yell as the phone goes dead. I blink blearily at the phone before putting it back in my pocket. Dumb Sammy having no appreciation of my luck. 

The back door swings open and it's officer Novak. I still can't get over the wings and sex hair. In a blink, he's beside me, crowding my personal space. 

"Heeeey, Castiel, right?" 

He squints at me. "Winchester." I punch him lightly on the shoulder and he grabs my wrist; holds on, staring at me. "You're drunk." 

"What was your first clue? You expect that kind of performance from somebody sober?" 

He lets go of my wrist and steps back with a sigh. "My brother is a bad influence." He folds his arms. 

I rub at my wrist. "Hell of a kung-fu grip you got there." He shrugs. "Nah, that was on Charlie and half on me. Gabe had nothing to do with it outside of dragging my ass out here tonight to start with." 

He blows a puff of air out through some seriously chapped looking lips. "Be that as it may, I must apologize for Gabriel. He is my best friend, for all his faults, but very... insistent on what constitutes his idea of a good time." 

"Yeah yeah he's a pushy little leprechaun, I know. Still my best bud at work, though." 

Castiel arches an eyebrow. "You seem.... close." Was that jealousy? Kinda' adorable. I make a flippant gesture, rotating my hand around my wrist. "Just putting on a good show. Honest, my best friend is my dweeby kid brother, too." 

"Oh?" 

"Yeah. He's out in Cali now, so I don't see him too much anymore. Honestly, it's gotten a bit lonely." I bite my lip and look down, ear-tips burning. Why the hell am I telling him him all this? 

"I understand. My work... with the hours and the distance it puts between you and other people..." Castiel shuffles his feet and runs one hand past his ear, through the hair at his temples. He straightens and looks at me, hand falling back to his side. "I don't see much of my brother, either. Much of anyone." 

"Would you like to?" I blurt. Stupid alcohol. Castiel stares at his feet, shoulders down. 

Oh fuck, he's gonna' walk off. That was way too cheesy. Quick, a distraction! "I know the guy. The robber, his name's Fergus Crowley." 

Those blue eyes sear into me like halogen high-beams on a star-less highway. His entire demeanor changes and I feel like I forgot my cardboard viewer during an eclipse. Officer Novak is back on the job. His hands pat at his waist, before he blinks owlishly and sighs. "We have to conduct a formal interview later. Why do you suspect you know the perpetrator?" 

I look at him as steadily as possible with my near-double vision, refusing to blink first. "Youtube video. Robbery's on there. Got a good look." 

His lips press into a thin line. "Alright. So, Winchester, what is your relationship to the alleged perpetrator?" 

I take a deep breath and let it out, putting a hand to the rough brick of the wall to steady myself. This is where I blow it. This is where he labels me a criminal and someone to serve instead of protect. (Where he stays officer Novak forever?) 

"Back when I was a kid, my dad had just died. I couldn't deal, so I got into some trouble doing some dumb crap." I rub my hands against my face while Castiel waits patiently. "My dad... he sure loved classic cars. So Crowley and me, we'd break into uncle Bobby's shop and take a car out sometimes. Should've been enough, but it wasn't. We got reckless. We got wasted and didn't return the car in time. The owner saw us out in his car, insisted on pressing charges." I take a deep breath. "Crowley sold me out for a reduced sentence, that piece of shit!" My shoulders are tight, my fists clenched. Heart's beating like a Phil Collins drum solo; chest heaving. 

Castiel is examining his fingernails. The motherfucker. He holds his peace until I get my breathing back under control. "I see. And now he is back." 

I nod. 

"Near your place of work." 

"Yeah." 

His eyes, naval blue in the dim lighting, bore into me. He squares his shoulders. "Dean." I shiver. "Do you have reason to believe he may contact you?" 

I stop breathing, then realize with incredulous hilarity that Castiel is cos-playing as Kiefer Sutherland from the goddamn Lost Boys. I choke down on laughter that would doubtless bend me over. "No. I don't know. Fuck." A repressed memory of shot-gunning marijuana smoke with Crowley rises to the surface. I screw my eyes shut and don't think of his hand, then his mouth, on my dick. That definitely never happened in the front of a 1970 S.S. Camaro. We definitely weren't interrupted by the car's owner pounding on the window and screaming at us, red in the face and swearing we would fag it up in jail, where we belonged.  
None of that ever happened in a grimy alley just like this one. That's not how it went down.  
No one can tell me different. 

Castiel is patting my shoulder slowly, like a golf clap. I can't look at him. "Breathe." He gives me a minute to calm down. "Let's go back inside." 

"Yeah," I swallow around the fuzz in my throat. "Yeah, let's do that." 

Gabriel rushes me when we get back in. "Dude! Glad you got some quality time with my bro, but it's almost your turn! Hurry your ass up!" 

"I don't... I don't know if I..." Gabriel blocks Castiel's path, frowning at him while I practically trip over my own damn feet. 

"Cassie, the fuck you say to my work boyfriend?" 

Castiel glares right back, but his voice is level, nearly monotone. "Winchester is a person of interest in an on-going investigation." 

Gabriel scoops me into a one-armed hug, shoulder fitting in under my arm-pit as he wraps his arm around my back. "Jesus Christ, Cassie, can't you stay off the clock for a few fucking hours? You don't know how to switch off, do you?" 

"Gabriel—" 

"Stow it, dude. It's showtime." I feel bad. I had been the one to bring up Crowley. I just don't have the will to protest as the midget carts me away. Castiel's eyes meet mine, sad and confused. Hurt?


	7. Thursday: late evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Songasm (everybody, and I do mean _everybody_ sings)! Also, everybody trolls Dean. So hard. Castiel joins the crew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm steadily pecking away at this guys, I promise!

Gabriel's herded me back in through the dimly-lit hallway, opening his mouth to speak when I hear: "Deanmon, come on up! Deanmon with "Hysteria" by Muse!" I slip out from under his hand and bolt back to the mic stand. I pass the d.j. a strained smile and mumble "Sorry". She waves it off and cues up the song. 

I can't say what feeling comes over me, fight or flight instincts churning my gut as the familiar dirty synth bassline comes over the speakers. I close my eyes, getting into it, swaying as I mutter the first few lines of the song. The chorus comes and I let everything come to the surface, probably looking unhinged. This song isn't quite in my range, so it's coming out of me in a lower key, and I switch to full on growling the lyrics. It'll wreck my throat, but the night is cursedly young and there'll be whiskey to soothe the ache. 

This song means a lot to me. It makes me think of how I'll never live up to my dad's memory, his ideals of me. I wonder if it's about fumbling for a better self and never getting there to anyone else. It feels like trying to talk myself out of a panic attack as I twist and tug at my hair. "And I'm breaking out, escaping now... Feeling my faith erode." It's over, and I feel drained and shaken, but obscurely better. I take a breath and put the mic back on the stand, then flash a wide grin I don't really feel to the scattered clapping. Well, hopefully someone was impressed. Flipping off a two-finger salute to the crowd, I head back to my friends. 

Charlie rubs small circles into my shoulder. "Intense there much, Dean-o?" 

"What happened with my dumb-ass brother?" Gabriel is staring a hole through me. 

I scrub my hands over my face and mumble past my fingers, "Nothing. Just brought up some bad memories. Totally my own damn fault, anyway." 

Gabe frowns, but eases off on the glower. Charlie rubs at my hairline, the scruff of my neck, and I lean into her touch instead of snapping that I'm not a damn cat. The irony'd be catnip and I'm not giving her the satisfaction. It's not because her touch is keeping me grounded in the here or now or some dumb crap like that. 

Castiel approaches the table with a round of amber coloured shots. My mouth waters. "Apologies. I regret any discomfort I may have caused." 

From the corner of my eye, Gabriel's scowl lessens. "You brought the good stuff, li'l bro?" 

"Of course. May I join you?" 

I lift the glass and smell. Whiskey. Maple-freaking-whiskey. The edges of my eyes prickle. "Shit yeah. Nothing to forgive anyway. C'mere." I scooch closer to Charlie so Castiel can slide in beside me. Gabe raises an eyebrow at me, then breaks into a broad grin and raises a glass. 

"Charlie! Give us a toast!" 

Charlie beams back at him. "Whiskey for the wasted!" 

"Here, here" we answer the call, downing our shots. The burn nearly makes me shudder and there's a phantom smell of maple syrup climbing up the back of my nose and throat. "Mmm, yeah," I mutter, licking my lips.  
Everyone is smiling. 

"Good choice, li'l bro." Castiel's smile reaches his eyes as I look over at him. Little brothers. Freakin' typical. 

"Castiel, we haven't been introduced. I'm Charlie." Charlie leans across me, pressing quite a bit of boob across my chest and arm to shake hands. My face heats up a little. Castiel pushes a pec that feels like a goddamn slab of concrete into me as he's shaking Charlie's hand and I barely repress a shudder. Gabe smirks at me, the asshole. Cas and Charlie's faces are both inches from mine, and I throw my shoulders to the wall of the booth, pathetically trying to slide down the wall. Hopefully they think the shot just hit me. I'm in hell. 

After a godddamn eternity, they resume sitting normally. Castiel doesn't shift away to give me personal space. My ear tips burn. I realize I've totally zoned out because Cas and Charlie are caught up in an animated discussion of the Lost Boys. 

"That werewolf sequel was fucking garbage," I say loudly and with conviction. That is to say, drunkenly. 

"But then we wouldn't have gotten the epic third one!" 

Cas laughs; it's deep and throaty. I'm jealous I wasn't the one to drag it out of his uptight ass, which is _awesome_. "It was great to see the Frog brothers back, even if it was only one of them." 

Gabriel is smiling secretively. "Doesn't matter, 'cause it was the one you had a crush on, eh, Cassie?" 

Castiel is abruptly stone-faced, but his cheeks pinken. "I know not of which you speak."  
Ooh, this is priceless. 

"Got a soft spot for nerds, Cas?" Is out of my traitor mouth before I can stop it. 

One corner of his mouth ticks up a fraction, "Having Gabriel for a sibling will do that." 

"Hey! I'll have you know I was one of the cool kids in school!" 

"Yes, and being a dope dealer had nothing to do with that." 

We all laugh, and get into stories about our highschool days. I down too much beer trying to focus on the good times and not remembering losing my dad. Not thinking about betraying my mom and Sammy by not being there for them. Making trouble for uncle Bobby, being a—  
Charlie's squeezing my leg, bringing me back to the here and now. She's a good friend. 

"Just remembering this prank we pulled in senior year..." I go into detail on the dumb joke me and some twins played on the captain of the football team. Good times. We shoot the shit and reminisce awhile. I tune out the karaoke because no stand-outs take a turn. 

And then..."Gabriel, come on down!" He does a hilarious over the top version of "Shock the monkey" that has us in freakin' stitches. Cas is chuckling, shaking his head at his brother's lame, dorky antics, eyes flashing with laughter. 

Gabriel sings, going from a low pitch to a ridiculous high whine "There is one thing you must be sure of: I can't take any more! Darling, don't you monkey with the monkey! Monkey, monkey, monkey," He scampers about the stage, doing a lame skit where he mimes being a monkey grooming and itself and then throwing poop during the instrumental break. 

He ends the song with some demented expressions like he's being electrocuted. People applaud the little gnome, encouraging him for reasons I can't comprehend. Everyone knows you don't feed the trolls! Everybody! We all hoot and clap the dork-wad on the back, Charlie actually smacking his ass. 

"Such lame. Wow." Gabriel rolls his eyes at me. 

"Whatever, stick-in-the-ass. You can't handle this!" He does a freakin' z-snap at me, putting two fingers to his ass, "Ssst." 

"That was a delightful performance, Gabriel." 

"Thanks Cassie." They grin at each-other. 

We file back into the booth, Charlie on the far right, Gabriel in the middle, then me and Castiel on the left end. "When you going on again?" I'm curious about what music Cas likes. 

He squints in thought. "Five more songs, maybe." 

I nod, drinking my beer, ignoring Gabriel's completely obnoxious expression. What the hell is his deal, anyway? I slide over to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. Leaning in extra close, I whisper straight into his ear. "The hell's with you? Even _if_ I swung that way," I ignore his snort, "There's no way in hell you'd want your kid brother anywhere near my raggedy-ass!" 

Gabriel rolls his eyes, shoves me away. He starts singing that stupid "Trololo" song in a rich baritone. I glare at him and clench my jaw. Looking to Cas for support, I grind out "Your brother is a fucker." Cas, damn his eyes, just joins in and sings along. Charlie is busting a goddamn gut, trying to sing along but barely able to through giggles. I salute with my beer mug, just in time to "Tralalalala you fucks", as I moodily chug my beer. Don't know how the Christ I ever got talked into this. Zelda comes back on her second break, just in time for Charlie to perform Electric Six's "Gay bar" to her. 

"You, I wanna take you to a gay bar." Castiel is poker-faced while Gabe and I keep meeting each-other's eyes, looking at Zelda, looking at Charlie and the goddamn levee breaks as this shit giggle loop continues and we're howling with laughter. Zelda sits stone-faced before she bursts into helpless giggles of her own. Only then do I hear Cas chuckling off to my left. Nearly everyone in the bar gets into the act, shouting "Gay bar, gay bar, gay bar" along with Charlie, as she points like Phoenix Wright having a stroke. She does an awesome air guitar during the solo. 

Wiping a tear from the corner of my eye, I shove at Cas until he gets up, and then we all pile out to give Charlie a standing ovation. "Charlie, man, you are somethin' else." She's only has eyes for Zelda, though. They smile at each-other and hug, clearly whispering before pulling apart. 

It's getting late, and the bar is emptying. A couple people aren't around for when they're called, and it's Cas's turn. He picks the second-worst song for karaoke **ever**. A song I blocked out three rounds of already today. **Fuck** Hotel California. **Fuck that shit.** But Castiel's smiling, an actual fricking gap visible between his too-pink lips. Fuck it, I don't have it in me to be a buzz-kill as he's waving us to come up with him. 

Gabriel continues his troll behaviour, and Charlie joins in, pushing the two of us together as she goes around to pick the second mic up from the d.j. table. The song begins, and I sing along on auto-pilot since I could be 90 years old with dementia and still remember the stupid lyrics. I blink, and nearly stutter as I notice Castiel is singing a gender-flipped version of the song. "He's got a lot of pretty pretty girls, he calls his friends." 

The hell? Am I being teased by straight-laced, doesn't laugh at practical jokes unless the target is laughing too officer Novak? Is he _hitting_ on me? I level a death glare at Gabriel, who is smiling serenely, ignoring me. Between my shoulders feels itchy for some reason, and I'm totally not noticing Cas' peppermint, leather, and honey scent as we crowd around the mic together. We switch off in pairs for the chorus, first Charlie and I singing the refrain, then Gabriel and Castiel. 

The four of us sway in time, actually harmonizing pretty well together. The outro is abbreviated, but we still get a good minute of rocking out on our imaginary instruments; Gabe and Castiel get up in each-other's space, dueling while Charlie and I play along. We get scattered applause—Hotel California is like golf, more fun to play than watch. After putting the mics away, we walk back to our booth. I put a hand on Cas's shoulder before he can sit and look at his face. "Why the rule 63 lyrics, Cas?" 

"If you are referring to the variant lyrics, it is beers," he raises a mug, "for queers," he gestures around, "is it not? Seemed appropriate." Fucker is stone-faced. No idea if he's screwing with me. 

"If this is your messed up idea of flirting with me, I'm **not** interested." 

He raises an eyebrow, a way too similar twinkle of mischief to his brother's in his eyes. "I was unaware," he says innocently as I drink beer. "Are you promiscuous Dean?" 

Choking and sputtering on my beer, Gabriel's pounding my back again an instant later. "Not helping!" I wheeze, "Can't breathe!"


	8. Thursday: late evening part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean sings the most ridiculous song I could see him singing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible songs I also kicked around "Untouched" (shout out to those delightful SPN crack vids) and toucha-toucha-touch me from RHPS. Hopefully I've entertained y'all with what I _did_ pick. Short update today, but I'll be back with an update Saturday morning... stay tuned, same bat-time, same bat-channel ;)

"Next up, Deanmon! Come on up Deanmon for "I know what boys like!" 

I stroll up to the stage with a smirk. I slowly, deliberately, strip off my coat as I sing-song the words into the mic on the stand. Then put my coat on the stool. Pay attention ladies and gentlemen, **this** is a master class on how to be a troll. Snatching up the mic, I continue. 

"I know what boys like, I know what guys want, I see them looking," I roll my hips and eye-fuck a couple random guys in the room. I grin and lick my lips each-time I make eye-contact with one. 

"I make them want me, I like to tease them. They want to touch me, I never let them." I lick my lips deliberately, wagging my finger back and forth. 

Charlie's nearby, looking torn between laughter and embarrassment, and I croon right to her. I lower my voice accordingly as I do the next bit that starts:  
"But you, you're special—I might let you—". Making a v of my fingers, I dart my tongue through on a couple of downbeats as I grin at Charlie. I end this bit by turning around and slapping my ass to the beat. Carrying on with the song, I'm glad I don't see Cas anywhere. 

"I know what's on their mind," Sweeping my gaze down a tall drink of water, I look pointedly at his crotch, raise an eyebrow. I continue singing this idiotic song, wondering if I should feel bad for doing this at a gay bar. But hey, I could **only** get away with doing this at a gay bar, right? For the next bit, I just do some awesome dance moves and flip my kilt up at the edges, jerking my hips to the beat. 

"They get so angry, like pouty children, denied their candy." I find Gabe and wink at him. He looks fondly amused and resigned. Figures he wouldn't get in on this. 

The second bridge starts, and I lower my voice again, faking being vulnerable to sucker in anyone who hadn't somehow heard this song before. I give the best doe eyes I'm capable of, running a finger along my bottom lip. I stick my tongue out to touch my finger, then trail it down my chest. 

"Anything you want, you can trust me. I really want to; you can trust me. How would you like it? You can trust me." Fuck, here's Castiel. He's staring at me with eyes bigger than the moon. I swallow thickly. 

"Sucker!" I whip my shirt off over my head, twirl it around a few times and then throw it at him. Determinedly not looking at Castiel, I prance around the stage and finish the song in just my make-shift fishnet shirt and leather collar from the waist up. I put the mic back on the stand to mixed cheers and boos. Someone actually yells "Ham!" 

Charlie yells, "Cocktease!" 

Grinning, I bow with a flourish and beat a hasty retreat over to my friends. "Hey Cas." I grab my shirt out of his limp hands. 

"Gabriel," he ignores me, "is he always like this?" 

"What, a cocktease? Fuck if I know. Doesn't really come...up" I follow his line of sight, and yeah, apparently that gave Cas a boner. I'm not sure whether to feel smug or like crawling into a hole. I settle for complete non-commitment, pretending like pulling my shirt back on meant I didn't hear or see any of that. 

"Gah. 'm thinkin' it's time to call it a night, guys." I lower my head, and scratch at the back of my neck, hiding my flush. 

"Yeah, yeah. Gotta' sober up first, you go on." Gabe waves dismissively at me. 

"Meh. Zelda's shift is about over." 

I yawn, cracking my jaw, then mock-glare at everyone. "Dirty ship-deserting rats!" 

Cas looks at me, confused "But it was you who suggested leaving first, Dean." 

Shrugging, I plaster on a grin and _don't_ look at his crotch, " 's the principle of the thing, Cas. No one's leaving with **me**. No solidarity!" 

Cas gets up in my personal space, looking serious as the grave. "Would you like me to leave with you?" 

Gabriel shoots Castiel a pointed look, and I take it to mean that Cas lives on the opposite side of town from me. "Nah, I don't want your pity cab-fare. Imma' call it. 'Night all." There's a few cabs idling around outside, and I just stumble into the nearest one and give my address. Driver looks a bit like that guy with the Hallowe'en Dracula look from earlier, but whatever. I'm pretty fuzzy and probably just imagining things.


	9. Friday: early morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley turns up again; Dean has a panic attack, and Castiel helps him through it.

My mouth tastes like someone took a goddamn shit in it. You'd think being a thirty-something, I'd have learned my lesson about not brushing my teeth before falling into a drunken torpor, but no. I groan and roll to the left, then open my eyes. 

"Hello Gorgeous!" 

I'm on my feet in an instant, fingers scrabbling for the knife under my pillow. Which is...not there. Awesome. My heart's beating fast and I'm sweating, clenching my jaw. I cover my panic by straightening up, trying to look as big as possible. "Who the fuck are you and what do you want?" 

I catch a white glint as the heavily shadowed figure smiles, moonlight filtering in hitting his teeth. "Oh darling, I am positively _wounded_ you cannot place me." He peels some crap off of his face, and steps a little closer. Suddenly I'm thrown back fifteen years. 

"Crowley." 

He shoves the whatever it was into his pocket. "In the flesh." 

I snarl and take a swing at him, and he's sidling over to flip on the lamp on my bedside table. My drunken hay-maker goes wide and I hit the wall. I wince and clench my fist, using the pain to help me focus. I glare at Crowley. He looks better than when we were kids, ten o'clock shadow on his face and wearing an impeccably tailored suit. 

He arches an eyebrow at me, hands up in a placating gesture. "Easy there tiger, easy. Just come to chat. I have a proposition for you. I don't suppose... you'd come away with me?" Awesome. Of all the ridiculous—  
"You can't possibly be satisfied with this hum-drum life...and so repressed." He shudders, tapping his fingernails on his thigh. 

"Yeah, well..." I roll my shoulders and look around for something to use as a weapon. George R.R. Martin's "A Dance of Dragons" hardcover taunts me from the bookshelf on the other side of my room. Yeah, I could probably hand out a concussion with that. 

"Oh, I know. On the straight and narrow. No more frightening mum and dear little Sammy. But he's not so little anymore, is he? Got himself a nice business going, "Samtastic LLC". Isn't it time you lived for yourself?" 

Shit, how long has this guy been stalking me? I snort. "Yeah, right. What the fuck is it you want with me, anyway?" 

"Be my inside man. You take care of the security and I take care of the goods." 

"You are seriously barking up the wrong tree, pal. Plus, you'll just hang me out to dry, _when_ , not **if** things get hairy. **Fuck you**." 

He smiles delightedly at me, beaming like a little kid with candy. "Got you thinking, haven't I squirrel? I can _see_ the little feet scrabbling on the hamster wheel in your brain. I've been sussing you out a long time, and I know you enjoy your little puzzles and traps. But I also know, deep in my blackened heart, that you miss the thrill of being dirty... in _every_ way." His smile is obscene. 

I'm not going to dignify that with a reply. I lick my lips, "get out." 

"Fine. I'll give you a few days to think things through. About how glorious it could be, you and I. You can be the Bonnie to my Clyde." 

"Get out _now _, or so help me, I swear to God, I will curb-stomp your weasel face into next freaking Tuesday!"__

Crowley puts his hands up in mock surrender. "Yes, yes I know. How could I possibly tear you away from **all this** ," twirling his hand in an all-encompassing gesture, he rolls his eyes. I use that flicker of white to take my shot and throw myself at him. Crowley side-steps me neatly; I shoulder-check the dresser and bang my knee. Barely catching the edge with my fingertips, I narrowly avoid being dumped on my ass. 

"Tsk, how undignified." He brushes imaginary lint off his left shoulder and wiggles his fingers. "Toodles". He slams the bedroom door in my face. I scramble to get away from the dresser and rush into the hallway, but he's already gone. 

"Son of a bitch!"  
  


***

I get Castiel's card out of my wallet, and try to make it out with a scowl. I need some fucking coffee. It's somehow both too early and too late for this bull-shit. I limp into the kitchen; go through the motions of making coffee like a robot. A long swallow of too-hot liquid later and desperately not thinking anything at all, I dial Castiel's number. I try to breathe evenly. He picks up after four rings. 

"Cas, Crowley was here." I'm breathing fast. 

"Dean? What did he say?" 

"That he'd be back. Wants to spirit me away or some b.s. like that." I'm too fucking tired and hung over to care what that sounds like. Think I need to open a window. I tug at my tee-shirt's collar. 

"I see... we'll assign a watch to your house." 

I scrub my hands over my sweaty face. "He said he'd been creeping me awhile. Think he was even at the bar earlier." Shudder. "He sang 'devil in disguise,' think he had some kind of latex crap on his face so he looked different." I laugh humourlessly, but I'm short of breath. Huh. 

"Dean, this is important. Did he do or say anything unusual?" 

"Aside from that fucked up garbage about Bonnie and Clyde? No..." I take a breath, then another, and another. "But I can't shake the feeling he's going to hit more places around here." My pulse is hammering; I can feel it where my hand is gripping my elbow. 

"Noted." Cas takes a deep breath, "shall I stay with you until morning? Until you can better secure your home?" 

I chew my lip. "Yes. No. I don't freaking know." Fascinated, I look at my hands. "I'm shaking. Like a teenage girl meeting Zac Effron. " A laugh bubbles up from my throat. "And I feel all ... tingly, like my arms and legs are falling asleep." 

"Dean! Push one nostril closed and breath slowly. You are hyperventilating." 

"Wh...what?" 

"You feel tingly, like a bad trip on "E", don't you?" 

How the hell... "Yeah." I do as he says, hoping it'll work. I'm starting to freak the fuck out. My heart is hammering out of my chest and sweat is running down me. 

"I'll be right there. You shouldn't be alone." 

"Yeah, ok." I giggle. "Usually coming back to my place is a second-date type deal, Cas." 

His frown is practically audible. "Try to stay calm." I hear Cas fiddling with keys. "I'll be there in ten." 

"I'm at—" 

"I know where you live." A chill sweeps over me. "I checked your record earlier today as part of the investigation." 

"Oh." I mumble, feeling weak. I guess sealed records don't mean much to a cop. My teeth are chattering. I hear a car door swinging open over the phone. 

"Try to meditate. See you shortly." He hangs up. 

This is embarrassing. I feel like a bug under a microscope. Barely know the guy, Gabe's brother or not, and he's got my number, literally and figuratively. He's coming here like I'm some frightened little kid. I cup my crotch just to make sure my stones are still there. Awesome, just freaking awesome.  
  


***

There's a knock on the door, so I pad down the hall and check the peephole. My legs are a bit shaky, but the one-nostril thing helped. I open the door, clutching the frame with my other hand. "H-hey C-c-cas." My teeth are chattering. 

"Hello, Dean." His eyes look cold. He's 100% officer Novak right now. I move aside to let him in, moving slowly. 

"M-maybe not much, but it's m-mine. Kitchen that way, c-can that way, bedroom, keep going straight." I slump back down onto the couch and shut my eyes, laying my head against the backrest. 

"Alright." Cas picks up a blanket I left on the recliner and puts it over me. I swallow down a burst of sheer animal panic at his hand wrapping around both my ankles as he lifts them to tuck my feet in. Cas must've noticed my flinch. Hard not to. My cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

"I will get you some water." 

"Right cu-cupboard, over the sink. What I really w-want is whiskey, though. Tastes a hell of a lot be-better." My teeth are slowing down. 

Castiel either chooses not to dignify that with a reply, or can't hear me over the tap running. I breathe slowly and deeply, and the annoying chattering stops before he comes back. I hear his soft footsteps on the carpet, and then a double clink as he's setting glasses down. I open my eyes and blink. 

"Ah, thanks man." I down the shotglass of whiskey and chase it with water. 

"It is of no concern." He peers at me, laser gaze scorching me. "Do you still feel a tingling sensation?" 

I sputter and choke on my water, curling into a near fetal position. Cas gets up in my space, thumping my back. "This is a worrisome habit you have. Please do not choke." 

I swallow repeatedly, resisting the urge to gasp for air. "Stop asking me weird questions while I'm freaking drinking then, asshole!" I wheeze for a moment or two after that, and Cas looks a little sorry. 

"Apologies. I shall refrain from questioning you when you imbibe in the future." He looks at me, frowning "You are still shivering." Crowding me, he puts an arm around the back of my shoulders, and pulls me flush to his side. I try to worm out of the blanket, but the sneaky fuck has cocooned me. 

"Do not be embarrassed. You are experiencing adrenaline leaving your system. Dean, let me help you." 

I mumble half-heartedly as he tucks me back into him. "I feel like a damn girl." Castiel is a solid, steady warmth against my side. I feel safe, protected. Sighing, I stop fighting it. The tremors start to ease up as we sit in silence for awhile.  
"Castiel, why're you a cop?" 

"That's a long story." 

"C'mon man, anything to take my mind off this crap." 

"Well...alright. It started with seminary school, I suppose." 

I bark out a laugh. "You? Really?" Well I guess that explains his weirdly formal way of talking. 

"Me. Yes," he smiles. "My father, he is rather religious. He wished for at least one of his children to be doing God's work." 

"Ah, right. Your mom re-married to Gabriel's dad?" 

"Yes. When I was around ten. All of us went to the same catholic school, and they met there. Once I graduated, father pushed for me to go into the seminary. Mother wanted me to be happy, and for a time, I was. Learning of the lives of the saints, studying ancient tomes, dead tongues, church history, Christian science, it was all very fascinating. I found peace within the rituals and sharing the trials of my fellows as well." 

"Somehow, it's hard to picture you on your knees, in a cassock." Except it wasn't, and my brain grinds to a screeching halt. Must've slipped a gear, because Cas is mid-sentence as I blink and lick my lips— "—In the library, and that's how I realized a life committed solely to Christ was not in the cards for me." 

Castiel's lips are very close to my ear. His voice is even lower than usual, conspiratorial. He feels impossibly close, intimate, in the dim light filtering in from the kitchen and the pre-dawn darkness. My gut does a somersault as I scramble to fill in the blanks with my fried brain. 

"Just because—" I hazard. 

"Just cause. The bigoted bullying of poor little Samandriel made me rage. I was hungry for justice and all I received from administration was hypocrisy, lip service, and shaming. I lost faith in the church. Eventually, I returned home. Mother went to bat for me, got father off of my back, said I was old enough to make my own decisions. My step-father, Michael, stood beside her, and I was grateful. He had been more of a father to me than my own, and I was fiercely glad to have him as a member of the family. He showed me I could be another type of shepherd." 

I nod. No wonder Gabriel thinks the world of this guy. "Your step-father's on the force?" 

"Yes. Thirty distinguished years of service before he retired." 

I yawn, "Cas, I'm getting sleepy, dude." 

"It's fine. I'll keep watch." 

"'K...." Can't keep my stupid eyes open, they feel weighted with lead. 

***

I blink, and sunshine is flooding the room. I'm face-down in a puddle of drool on Castiel's shoulder. My first instinct is to call Sammy and tell him what happened. I can't believe I didn't call him last night, but it was dark o'clock, and then there was Cas... and then there was Cas. I sit up and rub at my eyes, then start yawning. Oh yeah and that drunk dial. Fuck. well maybe one upshot of this is Sammy will be too worried to rip me a new one. Cas smiles at me lopsidedly and I'm blushing. "Sorry 'bout the drool." 

"All in the line of duty. I've had worse fluids on me." 

"Cas, you're killin' me! Why do you say suggestive shit so often?" 

"I was unaware directly mentioning vomit, feces, blood, and urine was suggestive of anything other than trying to spare the stomach of someone so hung-over," he says mildly. 

And yeah, just like that, I'm lurching to my feet and shuffling as fast as possible to to the can. I pray at the porcelain altar as I hug it. My stomach's flipping and rolling and I groan. I'm in my fucking thirties. Aren't I too old for this shit? My stomach's rumbling like the engine of an old car refusing to turn over, and I shut my eyes, rocking against the tide of nausea. How the hell was Castiel good to drive over a few hours ago? Dude must be able to drink a liqour store. I hear a knock on the open door and moan pathetically in response. Come one, come all! Watch me fail spectacularly at being an adult. 

"Sorry 'bout the one-ring circus," I mumble into the toilet bowl. 

Castiel's voice is fond and amused, "Well, hate to imagine what's under the tent." 

"Mostly pie. And clowns." My knuckles are white as I grip the toilet bowl. "Clowns with their big goddamn shoes doing the horse dance in my stomach." A disgusting burp rolls out of me. "Leave me to die in peace, dammit!" 

"Fine. It's time to leave for work, anyway." 

I lurch to my feet and my head spins. "Hey! I uh, I didn't mean it like that." I lick my lips. "You've been uh, really great, and—" I'm pressing my lips to his open mouth, and it's not much, but it's too much, my feet go out from under me and I whip my head to the side in a passing imitation of Linda Blair as I upchuck the like, seventy dollars of booze I drank. Cas is next to me when I'm done, offering me a wet washcloth for my mouth. And shirt. Fuck. 

" _That_ was attractive." I groan, humiliation complete and total like the explosion of a dying star. 

"A do-over can be arranged. If you like." Castiel levels me with his bright blue eyes crinkling at the corners, and it's about then I realize I'm a goner. 

"Sure. I guess I gotta' come down to the station anyway, right?" 

"Yes. Is one p.m. feasible?" 

"Yeah, sure." I get up and swish some mouthwash while walking Cas to the door. 

He kisses me on the cheek and I almost choke. Again. Fucker. I'm waving good-bye as he vanishes around the corner and still waving as I hear the sound of the fire-door opening as he takes the stairs. Swish swish. I feel sort of like a total moron, but also sort of totally awesome. Swish. I stop waving and my blood runs cold. I shut the door and lean my forehead against it. 

What the hell had I been thinking? Guy goes the extra mile for his brother's friend, and I morning after-breath sloppy kiss him? He probably was just being polite. He needed to see me—for work reasons—and didn't want to scare me off. He kissed my cheek to fuck with me. I'm an idiot. Also, and this is a **big** also, _I'm not even gay_. What the hell had that been? 

The mouthwash is burning my tongue, making it numb, and a spike of resentment flickers through me. Damn thing got me into this whole mess. Ok, not the crap with Crowley, but—I pad over to the kitchen sink and spit the rinse out—everything else. Everything else was because of running my stupid mouth. 

Should've kept it copacetic. Shouldn't have nearly spilled my guts to an almost stranger in an alley, nearly telling him how much I hate myself for being away, **in fucking jail** , right after dad died, not being there for mom and Sammy. For hurting uncle Bobby, too. I need to call my brother.


	10. Friday: morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam have another awkward conversation.

It's 8am. Probably OK to call. I take a deep breath and go grab my phone. I sit on the recliner and stare at it awhile, biting my lips. This is a lot of crap to dump on someone first thing in the morning, but it's Sammy. He'd want to know. Demand it, get pissed even, if I tried to sit on this. I blow out a breath, and my stomach squinches up like an accordion again. Probably going to be sore tomorrow. Damn alcohol poisoning. I tap call Sam twice before I can think about it, and settle deep into the cushy chair. 

"Hello? Dean?" 

"Sam... Sammy. Samantha. Samandrial. Green eggs and Sam. Samwise. When Harry met Sammy. Space Sam—" 

"Dean! Enough. Are you still drunk?" 

" **No.**... though I'd wish I was if I wasn't already feeling like re-fried ass, extra crispy." 

"Yeah... ok. You were really wasted last night.... how much do you remember?" 

I groan, "Enough to make sure I never let Gabriel talk me into anything ever again." 

"Pshaw, like that'll happen. Good luck fighting the good fight on that one, dude." His voice softens and I can just imagine his damn puppy-dog eyes. "You should talk to Charlie." 

"What, and own up to what a skeezy creep I was? She'd hate my guts if she knew I watched her flavour of the month go to chow town." 

"Well, I think not telling her is going to make you act all weird, driving a big wedge between you. Then there'll be some stupid huge blow-up, and it'll come out then anyway. Except then she'll be extra pissed at you for not telling her this whole time, too." 

"Sure, Dr. Phil. Listen, I got other problems. My house got broken into last night." I idly kick a heel against the fold-out portion of the recliner. 

"What? Are you OK? Anything stolen?" 

"Not what, who—Crowley." 

"That guy you got busted with when we were kids? What the fuck? Seriously, dude." 

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. A cop came over." 

"Must've been some mess. I mean come home, drunk as as skunk, and then that garbage?" 

"Tell me about it. It gets worse. Fucker woke me up and gave me some retarded "come away with me" speech, said he'd be back." 

"Holy shit!" 

"Yeah...life's just peachy. I also sorta' maybe cuddled with Gabe's brother all night and then nearly horked up all over him." Damn mouth on auto-pilot again. Sometimes, I thank God for cellphones. Never'd get this shit out if I had to look Sammy in the eye. 

Sammy takes a deep breath. "Dean..." 

"Yeah, I know." I play with a loose thread around the arm chair's piping. 

"The cop that came over was Gabe's brother? And he cuddled you all night?" 

"Got it in one. Well," I lose an explosive sigh, "apparently my brain, which is the _best ever_ , decided that this was all a great excuse for a panic attack, and I was next door to shock on top of alcohol poisoning, and I was shaking and tingly, and it just kinda' happened." I take a deep breath in the face of Sam's stunned silence.  
"It didn't, you know, mean anything... although maybe when I tried to kiss him it kinda' sorta' did..." I mumble. 

"Dean..." 

"Sure he was just doing his job. Officer friendly helping his brother out." 

"Dean—" 

"That's my name don't wear it out!" a parody of a smile on my face. 

"This is some heavy shit, dude. Have you looked into stepping up your home security yet? And this guy, Gabriel's brother?" 

"Officer Novak." 

"Right. What's going on with him?" 

"He's assigning a watch to my house and taking my statement on my break." 

"Dean—" 

"That's my name, Jelly bean!" I'm drumming my fingers on my thigh. 

"Officer Novak? What's he called when he's at home?" 

"Castiel." It comes out shyly, like a secret. 

Sam groans. "You are _so_ grade-school right now. I can't even. What kind of name is that anyway?" 

"Hell if I know. His parents were some kind of Jesus freaks." 

"Well, whatever. Do you want me to come up and stay with you? You know I got your back." 

I sigh. "Sam—" 

"I work from home. The internet can survive a few days without me making porn for it." 

"Yeah, well..." I rub at the stubble under my jaw with my thumbnail. "S'ok, Sam. The last thing I need is Crowley trying to use you as leverage." 

A long pause. I can practically _see_ Sam's bitch-face from here. "I guess you're right. But! I don't have to like it." 

"Sure you don't. I don't either." 

"So Dean...tell me, this Castiel, is he dreamy?" 

"Fuck off, Samantha! I swear I'll come down there and break your dick!" 

"Oh Dean, you know I get all shivery when you talk S&M!" Sam cackles, the little bitch. 

"This? This is me hanging up now. Goodbye, you ass!" Sam is whining when I hit the button to end the call. God save me from little brothers. 

I sit for a minute with my head in my hands, ass scooched to the edge of the chair. I can be an adult, or I can call in sick today. The new release is today, no way I miss work or Ellen will kill me. Probably with a rusty hatchet up the ass. 

Groaning, I get to my feet and go make some goddamn coffee. I'm sore from hitting the wall, bashing into the dresser, puking my guts up, and sleeping on the freaking couch. Head's pounding like Thor's having a dance party with Mjolnir in there. Fuck. Fuck me, fuck today. Sure as shit off to an awesome start. Gotta' put my big boy pants on and just shove through. 

I take a shower, run a comb through my hair, slap my face a few times, splash cold water on. Put on some clean clothes, do a quick search on my phone, and make an appointment for someone from ADT to come by. I also call my landlord and leave a message, telling them I need the locks changed. 

Soon enough, I'm trudging back to the office, sun burning my eyes like the wrath of God. I hit the doors thinking I'm saved, but even the crummy cheap florescent bars are like a reprimand. Gabriel always turns up late, so fortunately I'm spared rehashing the conversation I just had with Sam first thing when I get to work. I just turn my desktop on and get lost in code. 

It seems like I've blinked and it's time for lunch. Yep. **Really. Fucking. Tired.** No time for love, Dr. Jones, off to the doughnut corral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you to my subscribers! I know I don't usually take a chance on WIPs either, but I've always finished my stuff before and I don't intend to stop now. Thanks for being patient with me; leave me feedback and stay tuned for updates on Wednesday and Sunday mornings!


	11. Friday: afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel takes Dean's statement at the police station.

I pull up in front of the cop shop, and it's grey everywhere. Depressing. Like anyone who goes in here is already in prison. Cheap linoleum and more grey speckled ceiling panels. Making my way to the reception, I note its almost the same setup as an info desk at a bank or library. Very little has changed since I was last here, which has been nearly half my life now. I tap on the glass, thinking giddily that it's like being a bus driver behind there, but instead of tires rolling, you're squashing people under the wheels of justice. I bite down on a snicker as the far too uptight, world weary elderly receptionist regards me over her half-moon spectacles. 

"Yes, may I help you, sir?" 

I clear my throat. "I'm uh, looking for officer Novak." I look away as my cheeks heat up and curse myself for being an idiot. Yeah, grade-school. Gathering enough marbles, I continue. "He's expecting me, I'm here to make a statement and report a break-in." 

The receptionist checks her computer, which is so ancient I'd be shocked if the monitor showed more than four colours. She then regards me steadily. "Yes, officer Novak is in here, he's currently in interview room number two. I'll let him know you're here, Mr...?" 

"Dean Winchester." 

Fuck, I'm dumb. I should've just texted him and avoided this whole dog and pony show. It's like a grey cave in here; windows high-up slits like fucking archery turrets, and the walls are pressing in. The receptionist points to some shabby chairs with puke-green leather peeled off in places, and picks up the phone. 

"I'll be just outside, smoke break." I wink at the secretary and very obviously do not bolt for the door, I just put one foot in front of the other, like an adult, and then I'm past the doors in the afternoon sunshine. I sigh and lean against the sun-warmed concrete, head tipped back and eyes closed. I listen to the hum of distant traffic, the twitter of bird song, and the drone of insects. A slight breeze feels good on my flushed skin and I repress a yawn. 

I hear the door open and a dry voice says, "Soliciting is illegal, you know."  
My eyes snap open and I tilt my head to see Cas, whose eyes are twinkling. Guess he's used to running on no sleep, because he looks just fine. His uniform is sharply creased, collar stiff, looking professional. The only hint of his personality is in the little tufts of unruly hair sticking out from under his cap. 

"Yeah, I know. Maybe I'm just giving it away for free, 'cause I'm a badge bunny. Ever think of that?" I lick my lips, give a slow obvious look up and down his body, and smirk at him. 

"It perhaps occurred to me...." he smiles this secretive little smile. But his gaze is bold as ever, hitting me straight with the blue high-beams, and I flush, badly gutted. Oh yeah, I so lost this round of gay chicken. I cough, flushing all over. 

"Dean, are you choking? You weren't drinking that time? Dean!" 

Laughing, I hold up a hand as I lean against the wall, trying to stave off the giggles. Cas just looks so damn worried, it's adorable. I catch my breath and smile up at him. "It's fine, Cas. Guess my mouth just got dry." I clap my hands together. "Lead on, MacDuff, let's get this shit-show on the road." I straighten and pull away from the wall. 

"Alright." He leads me back through the station, and it doesn't feel so claustrophobic with Cas by my side. We're nearly the same height and I'm acutely aware of his hand, hovering near mine. We're walking in tandem, limbs moving parallel, keeping together in easy time like we've known each-other for years and not just a lousy day. 

I glance up from Cas's hands. There is zero trace of humour on his face, it is 100% serious business. He catches me looking at him, and slips me a small half-smile. That does not do weird fluttery things to my insides, at all. "I appreciate your coming here, Dean. It shows great courage of your convictions." 

"Well," I mumble, "kinda' owe ya' for this morning and you're the lead officer on this case anyway, right?" We're approaching one of the interview rooms, and my skin starts to crawl. I swallow thickly, looking at the unassuming standard crappy beaten-up chairs. 

Castiel ushers me in when I hesitate, then follows close behind. Taking a chair opposite from me, he takes his notepad off of his belt and places it on the table. He clears his throat and spears me with that eagle-gaze again. "Dean, this conversation is to be recorded. Please state your full given name and consent for recording. Answer all questions verbally. If you nod, I will remind you." 

I take a breath, and lick my lips. My gaze slowly drifts from Cas's eyes to his lips, down to his long fingers loosely holding a pen. "Ok,"I sigh. "I am Dean Winchester and I consent to being recorded." Cas looks past me to the one-way mirror and gives a thumbs-up. Great, just what I needed, to be reminded we're not alone. No pressure. 

Castiel goes through the whole rigmarole, stating the date, his title, badge number and office. He goes on to state the case file number and asks me standard questions. I spell out my name in full, place of work, and where I live. Then I recap yesterday morning. When he asks, I tell Cas I do eat in my car a few times a week, usually at the same time. 

I re-iterate that I only noticed anything because the black Toyota screeched out of the parking lot like the wheels were on fire. Then I recap seeing Crowley on the youtube video and that I remember him from highschool. I forward Cas the text Sammy sent me at his request. I describe Crowley and tell him in detail about waking up to see Crowley at the foot of my bed. Cas scribbles away, alternating between his notepad and some kind of form. 

I'm freaking starving. I fish a candybar out of my jacket pocket and eat it in huge bites, talking around a mouthful of chocolate at times. Cas raises an eyebrow, but continues on. This sucked balls, but now it's all out there and I feel relieved. Licking at the corners of my mouth, I notice Cas's stare burning a hole through me. 

"What? I got somethin' on my face?" 

"No. It's nothing." He looks back down and continues working on an incident report. 

"Castiel, I'm fricking dying of hunger here, man. I gotta' go. Due back at work p.d.q. So am I being detained, or am I free to go?" I grin, surer than I feel. 

"Apologies. I shall show you out. Thank-you for your time." We're outside pretty quick and Cas follows me to my car. 

"Cas, you don't have to. I mean, I'm OK man." 

Castiel is on me like righteous fury, hands all over as he pins me to the driver-side door of the Impala. "Be still," he hisses, arms pressing my elbows into the window as he gently holds my chin in one hand. 

Paralyzed, I obey. He slowly, methodically, licks around my mouth. My brain fries. He pulls back and stares at me. "I lied. There was something on your face." 

"I....See. Loaded with peanuts, Snickers satisfies?" I mumble idiotically. 

"You should return to work." He makes no motion to retreat. 

"Yeah...that's a thing... I should... definitely be...doing." His knee is between my thighs and I'm hard as a rock. I'm sure he can feel it. All I can do is try to breathe. "A-am I being detained?" 

"Would you like to be?" Cas's look is sly. Bastard is toying with me. 

"Am I free to go?" 

Cas rolls his eyes and moves, putting a hand on my shoulder. He pats me on the shoulder slowly, it screams "no homo". Somehow it makes me feel soiled. "Go, then." He turns, walking away from the car. I lunge forward, putting my hand on his shoulder; he lets me spin him back. His face is blank, one hand on his baton. 

"Cas...I..." swallowing, I try to push through it. I lick my lips, then meet his eyes. "C-Castiel," I try again. 

He shuts his eyes and sighs. "We just met and you are very frightened..." his eyes crack open. "You are frightened, confused, and so deep in the closet you don't know which way is out." 

I swallow thickly, "Cas—" 

"Enough. Serve and protect, that is my job. One I have just done poorly. I will redeem myself to you, Dean." 

It's like I've turned to stone. I watch him walk away in stunned silence as my throat works rapidly. I can't speak. With nerveless fingers, I open the door, sit down and strap myself into Baby. I close the door, put my head in my hands, headbutt the steering wheel and yell "FFUUUUUUUUUUUCK!" as loudly as possible, feeling the sensation of air leaving my lips, my chest and back vibrating as I scream from deep under my ribs. 

Gripping the steering wheel, my knuckles are white. Probably as bloodless as my face right now. I flick a disgusted glance over at the side-view mirror. Yep. White as Santa's asshole. I start the car and head back to my damn job. Good thing I'm no longer hungry. 

All the memories, old and new, dart across my mind's eye. I hurt Cas. Castiel, who was the sole reason I'd been able to pretend today was normal. Sammy had helped; it just relaxed something in my gut to hear my little brother safe and happy. But he wasn't here. It was good he wasn't, but a phone-call isn't a hug. Isn't the knowledge that there's someone next to you, who's taking care of you. Cas had given me that. He'd blind-sided me, and I didn't know if I was more scared or turned on in the rush of adrenaline that had followed. I pull into the lot at work and sigh. 

My stomach rumbles, now that I've calmed down. Guess I'll go bug Gabe for candy. Fucker always has candy, it's one of God's miracles that he still has all his teeth. I enter the building and am standing at Gabe's cubicle in short order. Rapping my knuckles on the left wall, I put on my best obnoxious grin. "Hey Candyman, hit me!" 

Gabe turns around, talks around the lollipop in his mouth. He's in his 40s, it's ridiculous. "You blow me off, all day," suck suck, "and _now_ you come scrounging after disappearing at lunch? What the hell, man?" 

I tap at my watch. "Tick-tock, lucky charms, we're live in four hours." Sighing and grumbling, Gabe passes over some little debbie snack cakes and a fistful of candybars. "You da' best!" I slap him on the shoulder and saunter off with my ill-gotten gains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for following me this far! Have another early update ;) Please remember to feed the authour's ego and leave some feedback!


	12. Friday: early evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finishes work and gets some stuff done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short update today because not much happens on Friday compared to Thursday and Saturday.

I return to my desk and settle in. I get lost in a haze of coding, drinking coffee that keeps going cold; it seems like I keep blinking and the cup is empty. One of the perks of being a senior programmer is not having to leave your seat to get a re-fill during release day. The next four hours pass in a haze of furious typing, interspersed with scanning for bugs. At times I cackle maniacally under my breath, imitating Integra Hellsing. "Search and destroy! Search and destroy!" I say with a purposefully terrible Engrish accent. Oh, and I'm ignoring messages from Gabriel. Charlie's quiet; she's way too serious about her work to be screwing around at a time like this. 

My head is pounding, my eyeballs ache, my mouth is dry, and my butt's gone numb, but it's as done as it's going to get. It's six p.m. and we've gone live. Now the most unlucky of us get to stay behind and stew while our users break shit, and work through the inevitable complaints. The rest of us get to be on-call working at home in case something gets really badly broken. 

Smiling with satisfaction, I stretch luxuriously. And get poked straight in the chest. The hell? 

"OK, so we're getting dinner and you're telling me what the fuck is going on with you." Gabe is poking my breast bone. 

I just raise an eyebrow. "That's not a doorknob, you know. Stop that." I bat his hand away. 

"Yeah, whatever. So we're we going?" 

"I'm going straight the fuck home. Gotta' get my new keys from the landlord and have a security guy coming to install shit." 

Gabriel seems to finally clue into my mood. "Your place got broken into." 

"Yeah," I scrub at my hair. "Sure did. _And_ , the guy woke me up at drunk o'clock to fuck around with me." I huff out a breath. 

"Well, shit. Are you OK?" 

"I'm here, ain't I?" 

Gabriel nods, and is opening his mouth to speak; I cut him off.  
"It's ok. Your little brother baby-sat me and he's got someone keeping tabs on the place in case the guy comes back." 

A complex series of emotions plays across Gabriel's face. "Well...good." 

"Yeah," I glance at my watch and then start heading to the door. "Seeya' Monday." 

"We got hockey Sunday!" 

"See you Sunday." 

I scan the parking lot as I step outside. Nothing looks out of place. Some small part of me wonders if the cops shouldn't be tailing me, not just watching my apartment building, but I brush it off and walk to my car. I get into the Impala and hit the drive-through before heading home. I stop in with my landlord and she hands me my new set of keys. About ten minutes later, I'm sitting on the couch watching the Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt on Netflix and got a mouth full of burrito when the door buzzes. 

"Yeah?" 

"Hey, it's Balthazar with ADT. Is this Mr. Winchester's apartment?" 

"Yep. Come on up dude, I'm on end of the left hallway." 

"OK, be there in a minute." 

We say our hellos when he comes up, and I finish eating my dinner while he puts some strips and stuff on the window and sets up an alarm that'll send a call to their guys if it's broken. He also sets up a motion detector in a corner of the living room you have to pass if you want to go basically anywhere else, coming or going. Last he gives me a little waterproof thing to put on my keychain that can disable or enable an alarm just in case. 

After all this, I'm pretty tired. But I'm pretty wound up on coffee and I just want someone to take care of me. It's not exactly fair to her, and I shouldn't have anyone over right now....but what the hell. I text my fuckbuddy. _Hey Cassie, you busy?_

A few minutes later, she texts me back. _Not really. Just relaxing at home after a long week with a couple of drinks. Want to come over?_

_Yeah. sure._ That was probably a better idea anyway. _Hope you been doing yoga cause you're going to be on your knees for a good long while tonight_ My stomach's still a little sore from this morning, and yeah, I'm a bit banged up. But if I'm lucky I can just lean back on the bed and let Cassandra work her magic. I get an ache behind my eyes as my mind keeps skittering around the irony. 

_Maaaaaybe. ;)_ she texts me back. 

Well. I perk up a bit. Alright then.


	13. Friday: Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean visits his lady friend Cassandra and faces some hard truths about himself. Very graphic m/f warning.

I take a shower and head over to Cassandra's house. It's a little bungalow with a small yard and a couple of tall, big hedges right by the front door. She comes to the door in a mini-skirt, a cheeky grin, and nothing else. 

"Hey doll." Her black hair is in a pixie cut; her blue eyes are shining, nearly black in the inky darkness. Her heart-shaped face and pointed chin are half in shadow, a light from the hallway and the moon all to see her by. 

"Hey doll-face," I grin back. "Lovely weather for taking the girls out, eh?" She lets me in, and as soon as she's closed the door, I'm behind her, cupping her ass and skimming my hands around her ribs to cradle her boobs. They're just a little bit more than I can fit in my hands. "Mmmm, Damn Cassie, you know how to get a guy going." I nibble on her neck and scratch at her nipples with the edge of my thumb-nail. She gives an appreciate moan and I squeeze her boobs together. 

She growls, " **Dean**." Bumps back against me, a flimsy scrap of cloth and my jeans all that's keeping her naked ass apart from me. I slide my hands down her ribs slowly, taking my time so I don't tickle her. I sink my hand around the curve of her hip-bone and pull her ass flush to my crotch. 

"Yeah, Cassie, you sexy little slut, what do you want?" I'm getting really hard, and happy I went commando. I resume nibbling at her neck, grinding into her a little. I try not to think about how I was in a similar position last night, with Charlie in front and Gabe behind me. That would just be weird. Yeah. Weird and gross; disrespectful of Cassie to boot. 

"You," she whispers, "just you, Dean." I know she's just sweet-talking me, but I still feel a little pang remembering when that was true. I shove it down and play my role. 

"Yeah? Well that hot ass of yours is all I got on my mind, baby. You gonna' give it to me?" I reach a hand down front and go straight for her slit, running my thumb along her wet opening, avoiding her clit. She gasps and bucks. 

"Yeah. Just keep doing that for a bit and you can slide it right in." She's getting pretty wet already; a thrill runs through me. Maybe I'm not the one for her, but I'm sure as hell the one who fucks her best. I push my thumb into her and she makes a deliciously frustrated moan. Smirking, I undo my fly with my other hand and press my bare dick to the back of Cassie's thigh. 

"You feel that baby? All for you and nobody else." She's so tight around my finger, and I can feel her getting noticeably wetter as I rub the head of my dick against her silky thigh. 

"Dean... _mmph_..." 

"Bedroom?" 

"Bedroom." 

I let go of her and push off my jeans. Cassie turns around and puts an arm around my neck, bringing me down for a searing rough kiss while I stand there with one pant leg off and the rest of my pants around my ankles. I cradle her pointed chin in my palms and try to calm her, pulling her into a slower kiss with less teeth, sliding my tongue against hers slowly. We moan into each-other's mouths, and now that I've got two wits to scrape together I kick my jeans the rest of the way off. 

Cassie lets go of me, and we break apart so she can haul my shirt up over my head. She traps my wrists in my shirt and we share a kiss so hot I feel my dick dribble a little. We're both panting as I rip free of my shirt. I crowd her, walking her backwards ten paces, and press her over the arm of the couch. 

"Naughty girl. Just for that, I'm gonna' take you apart, make you beg for me to fuck you." I manhandle her until she's on the couch facing forward and sink to my knees in front of her. I pull her ass flush to the edge and shove her legs apart until her knees are pressing into my shoulders. "You're gonna' be dripping, squirming, begging for my dick by the time I'm done." I give her my best fuck-me stare and lick my lips slowly and deliberately. 

Her eyes are huge, dark with need, pupils black pits. "Promises, promises," she says breathlessly. 

I growl, flip her skirt up, and press kisses along her thighs. I feel like I'm gonna' die if I don't get my rocks off, but that means I gotta' slow it down so it's not over in the 0.2 seconds it'd take me to come right now. I grip her thigh with one hand to brace myself. 

I take my time, slowly and deliberately licking the open part of her slit, swirling my tongue around her inner lips but not touching the top of her clit directly. I swipe my tongue up and over her most sensitive part, making her gasp. Pressing a hand up her navel, I spread her lips apart with the pull of flesh, exposing more of the flesh underneath her trimmed outer pussy. Slowly, gently, I fit her entire clit into my mouth, sucking and licking it like melting ice-cream. Cassie shudders all over. With a grin, I break off and drag the tip of my tongue down. I shove my tongue into her hole, fucking her with it and her thighs clench. Cassie swears under her breath and tangles her hands in my hair, and I flick rapid shallow licks at her clit, making her quiver. I'm drooling, my mouth somehow dry and flooded at the same time as I taste a wave of her sweet, iron-tinged fluid. I breathe in her tangy scent as I slowly lick up one side her clit and down the other before fucking her with my tongue some more. My ass is open to the air and my banged up knee is protesting from being pressed into the carpet, but I don't care. I'm in control. 

Cassie has slumped onto the couch, she's covered in goosebumps, a fine sheen of sweat covering her chest. She makes these little needy whimpers that make my dick ooze. I let go of her thigh and start playing with my dick. I ease off with my tongue, putting a finger back into her pussy; crooking it slowly in a "come here" motion while I flick my tongue across her clit rapidly. I look up at Cassie's face, and her jaw is quivering, eyes nearly rolled up into the back of her head. A shudder rips through me and my dick pulses in my hand. Yeah, think it's my turn. 

I get up, and she stares at me with glazed eyes. I offer her my hand with a dark smile, "C'mon darlin', let's move this to somewhere we can get horizontal." She takes my hand and I haul her to her feet. I let go of her hand and grab her hips, grinding my rock-hard dick into the slot between her stomach and thigh. "Think you're gonna' have to put your mouth on that, baby girl." I groan, nibbling on her ear. "Yeah, you're going to let me shove this big dick straight down your pretty throat." 

Cassie moans and arches a little, rubbing her nose against my jaw as she nods. I let go and we stumble into her bedroom. I sit down on the edge of her queen-size bed, wriggling a spot for myself in the thick cream coloured comforter. Cassie sinks to her knees in front of me, haloed by the dim light from the hallway filtering into the darkness of her bedroom. Her plush lips look shiny and soft. She darts her tongue out across her lips and leans forward, elbows on either side of me. Her hands slide up to my thighs; her fingernails scratch at my hip bones. She takes my dick in her mouth and swallows me down; I groan and my balls tighten. 

I lean back on my elbows and watch as Cassie's throat works around me, taking me all the way down like a pro. Her eyes are heavy-lidded as she moans around my dick, making my hips cant forward and my toes curl up.  
"Mm yeah, baby girl. Love your filthy mouth." Her palm cups my balls and her finger presses just behind them in tandem with her long swallows. She pulls her mouth off with an audible pop and I groan again. I slide further down, lying almost flat as she gives rapid licks to just the head. She's catching her breath, and it teases me with hot puffs of air as she gives long dirty licks all the way up and down my shaft. She's spitting all over my cock as she does this, getting it wet. My dick is coated in drool and I shudder all over as she grips me tightly at the base. 

"Don't worry, you'll get yours, sweetheart. Though that feels _really_ goddamn good." She skewers my heart and my dick with a pleading look, eyes all liquid and huge, glazed with desperate want. A pulse runs through me, and my dick visibly oozes as she toys with the rim. 

"Cassie." She's always so quiet during. it makes it more real than porn. She doesn't put on a show. It's all legit. And right now, she's legitimately giving me a look that says she's going to die if I don't fuck her there and then. She gives one of these pathetic little needy whimpers, and I struggle to keep my breathing even as she drools a deliberate line of spit right onto the head of my dick, slowly pumping me in her little fist that can't wrap quite all the way around. She stops pressing behind my balls and puts her second fist atop the first as she wrings me like a rag. I gasp and my eyes roll up in the back of my head. I'm fucking quivering as she licks furiously at the fluid oozing out of me. 

My thighs tense and a few pulses jolt through me. "Alright, alright! You better jump on this dick right now, baby girl, or I'm going to blow this load straight down your throat instead of where it belongs." 

Cassie backs off, breaking into a broad grin as she rips open a condom. She puts it in her mouth and uses her lips to push it straight down on me a slow fluid movement that makes my balls tighten. Then there's lube on her hands like magic and she covers me in it with one hand while fingering herself open with the other. The expression on her face is so intense that I have to look away. A feeling of displaced air, and then Cassie's hand is on my iron hard dick drawing my focus back. I stroke a hand down her hair and cup the side of her face. "Cas," I murmur, and it twists something in my gut I don't have time to think about as her scorching heat is swallowing up my dick. 

"Dean," she whispers, sinking down and pressing closer, until she's completely flush to me and her lips are covering my own. The kiss we share is soft and sweet. We just hug for a moment, relieved to have someone to be lost in. 

The moment ends, and she tilts her head onto my shoulder, exposing the long long line of her bared throat. I answer her unspoken plea by kissing and nibbling on her neck, just shy of aggressive enough to leave a mark. She gasps, slowly moving her hips in a few slides that make me groan. "That's it baby, you're doing so well, taking my cock so good," I can feel the press and give of her as she slowly relaxes, fighting her urge to clamp down. She's so tight, my Cassie, and I fight a pang of familiar feeling about what we used to have a long time ago. 

"C'mon darlin', I know you can go harder." 

"Yes." She gets into a kneeling position and presses my hands to my sides. She squeezes them and then slides her hands up to my forearms, clutching them tightly. I groan as she starts rocking on me, and I can feel her dripping on me, fluid leaking from her pussy all the way down to my balls. Shuddering, I strain to stay still and just let her use me as she sees fit. 

"Dean," she calls softly. "Dean, please..." she lets go of my arms and braces herself with one hand on my chest. "Please," she whimpers. She's sex flushed, all through her chest, face and ears. I push my thumb gently to her lips and she sucks at it hungrily, moaning. 

"Ask. You gotta' ask. Tell me what you need." 

"Please Dean. Please rub my clit so I can come all over you." I lower my hand and glide my now wet thumb around where we're joined. Cassie bucks and gasps, clamping down; my eyelids twitch and my cock jumps. 

"Caaaass..." I hiss. "You gotta' relax or I'm gonna' blow." She stills on me, and I can feel the muscles in her thighs jumping and trembling, feel her struggling not to clench. Squirming. I slowly circle in towards her clit, pushing more wetness onto there. She's squeezing down hard on my other arm, like she doesn't believe this is real. Staring at me with eyes blue like the river under a moonless sky; eyes huge like she thinks I'll vanish. 

"Easy, easy... I got you baby," I murmur. Her eyes widen as I zero in on her clit and start rubbing in gentle rhythmic circles. I focus on keeping a steady pace and a light touch. Cassie fucking melts and starts pumping her hips lazily, not disturbing my hand. I flatten my palm and wrap my fingers down the side of her thigh. She picks up the pace and shudders are ripping through me. My clenching gut is still sore and not totally on board with this, but hell if I care. 

I resist the urge to rub her faster, just keep it as steady as possible as my wrist and thighs start to tremble. "Cassie...Cas...nngh..." I groan, and she starts panting above me, her fingers slim bars of iron clutching my arm. 

Unbidden, the memory of Castiel, so close, leg between my own, licking around my mouth floats to the surface. "Cas... Cas I'm gonna' come, gonna' spurt my load right into your tight little hole—" Cassie thrashes, milking my dick, screaming, and it sends me over. My vision whites out, she feels so goddamn good.... But all I can think about is Castiel. It's so disrespectful to Cassie and so fucking gay, but I can't help it anymore; my jizz is spurting into the condom and part of me wants to cry. I'm feeling aftershocks, still half-hard, and Cassie's still pumping away, nearly arching away from my touch, bent over me now, and I bite down on her neck as she screams like I'm murdering her. 

"That's it, good girl..." I murmur, rubbing her slowly and more gently. My wrist is cramping, but it's totally worth it as she grinds down and groans, convulsing around me again. It's kind of adorable, almost like she's swimming as she thrusts weakly on top of me. A choked, pained cry escapes her, and I pull my hand away to stroke her hair while she circles her hips on me in slow motion. It's mostly the condom keeping the blood in my dick now, but I don't have the heart to push her away. "Good girl. Love you like this, all needy and fucked open." 

She wraps her arms around me, hugging me close, raining soft kisses along my neck and shoulder. Cassandra sucks gently at my pulse, through a long shuddering sigh. "Dean..." she gets a hand between us, crouching and pulling off of me in one smooth motion, holding the condom on me. The resulting sound makes my dick twitch with interest. **Seriously**? 

Cassie kisses my cheek and rolls the condom off, knotting it as she slowly walks to the bathroom on slightly unsteady legs. "Yep, still got it." I grin to myself. Seriously though, what was that stuff with Castiel? Christ. Well, I nutted while thinking of another guy... maybe. I take a deep breath. Maybe I'm a little gay. Just a little. 

Cassie comes back with stuff to clean me off and I study her in the soft light streaming in from the hallway. Black hair, completely sexed up, blue eyes. Tan skin, coral-pink lips. Guess I have a type. I hide a wince as she cleans my sensitive cock-head with a wet wipe. 

"C'mere." I grab Cassie's wrists and pull her back down to me. She makes a pleased huff and I tuck her head in under my chin after kissing the top of her head. She presses a kiss to my collarbone, and I stroke her hair gently. 

"Yanno', angel, I haven't fucked you from behind yet. What do you say I get to see that gorgeous ass bouncing on my hard dick this morning for round two?" 

I feel her smile against my chest. "Sounds like a plan." 

"Damn straight." 

She kisses the edge of my chin. "So what was that about? You're not usually so toppy." 

Looking straight ahead at the beige wall and a poster of wide-eyed kittens poking their heads up out of a basket, I try not to tense. "Sweet F.A., that's what. Can't a guy just want to be bossy sometimes?" 

"Dean, as hot as that was, we both know that's not really you." She props up on one elbow and studies my face in the dim light; I stare right at those gooey-eyed kittens and clench my jaw. 

"Jesus, Cassie, you never hear of after-glow? Just let me have ten, OK? So not into dealing with my crap right now." 

She sighs. "So, there is something wrong. Dean, you know I'll always be your friend. You can talk to me, OK?" 

I stroke her hair and then put my fingers into it and tug. "Just c'mere," I whisper, blinking rapidly. Cassie goes back down obediently. I pet her hair, swallowing thickly. We both pass out.


	14. Saturday: Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean slinks off without facing Cassandra, not unnoticed by a certain early morning jogger... a surprise awaits him when he gets home.

It's morning, and I got shit to do. Doing a good ol' hug and roll, I let Cassie sleep and dodge any more questions. She'll give me crap later, but I can't unload on her. She's not that person to me anymore. 

So I sneak out, yup. Just a totally normal guy doing totally normal Saturday morning crap who isn't running like a coward. Gimme' a break, alright? I've met my monthly quota of awkward conversations in the span of two freakin' days. Locking up behind me, I squint into the morning sunlight. It's an awesome day. 

Everything's green and lush, waving in a slight breeze. Birds, butterflies, bees all passing by as I watch. I take in a deep breath of flowery smelling air. It's peaceful, only a scattered car and a couple elderly people walking around. An early morning jogger passes me bay as I slowly walk back to my apartment. 

It's the kind of day that makes me wish I was a dad. That I had a kid I could toss a Frisbee around with and then take for ice-cream. It'd just never worked out that I'd found someone to start a family with. Sammy's got a dog, he swears up and down that it's great, but I couldn't leave an animal inside the house all damn day. It'd be cruel.  
Humming tunelessly, I continue along. Fucking beautiful day to throw a goddamn pity party. 

Out of the corner of my eye, a jogger approaches and he slows to keep pace with me. I look over at him. 

"Hello, Dean." 

My smile becomes a little more real. "Hey Cas." Then my stomach sinks like a stone as I remember the last time I saw him and I strive for a neutral expression. 

"I heard your house was quiet last night." 

"Good." 

"Crowley didn't contact you again?" 

"Not so far as I know. Then again, it's early and I haven't checked my e-mail. Hell, I wasn't even home last night." 

"Yes. I heard you left near midnight and did not return." 

"Yeah," I slant a glance over at him. "I was over at my friend's house." 

Cas goes a bit tense around the eyes; the rest of his face remains a neutral mask. "How trust-worthy is this friend?" 

I look away. "Known her since high-school. We were a thing once. So yeah," I lick my lips, "pretty solid. And that ass, mmph," I chew on my lips, "Very solid. Tight." I smirk over at him, wiggling my eye-brows. 

Castiel is poker-faced, except for a hint of a smirk tugging at one edge of his mouth. "Good to know that a hard, tight ass is a good foundation for friendship to you, Dean." Castiel fucks off, running ahead, and hell yeah I notice that ass. A nice ass is a nice ass, and you could bounce a dime off of his. It seems like he's always running ahead of me, leaving me in the dust. He didn't buy my display of heterosexuality and turned it around on me. Always freaking doing that. Well, walk it off, Winchester. 

It takes another few minutes for me to reach the dingy three-story building I'm staying in while I build up my savings to buy a nice condo. As I unlock the door, it occurs to me that in all the excitement, I forgot to check my mail yesterday. Jack & squat in my little cubby hole. I lock back up and continue on to my door. 

Something's off. Freaking door's unlocked. Awesome. I turn sideways, minimizing myself as a target, and push the door open with one hand, pocket knife gripped in the other. Silence. I take one step across the threshold, then another. Scanning the hall, nothing seems out of place. 

I go deeper, into the kitchen. A soft ticking catches my attention. My heart drums rapidly. Sitting on my kitchen table is a gun-metal grey diver's watch. It's mechanical and likely costs thousands of dollars. With numb hands, I pick it up. A timer has been set. Thirty-six hours, ten minutes, five seconds. I blink dumbly and my heart does a snare drum roll. My knife clatters onto the table; there's a card. 

_A little taste of things to come. Until we meet again, precious._

I recognize the hand-writing from the scribbled margins of the English text-book we used to share. There's a sour taste in my mouth, bile rising in my throat. Crowley. Of freaking course. He'd gotten in, again. Undetected by my security system. I look out the window in despair, resisting the urge to throw the goddamn watch across the room. It's evidence now, after all. My hands sweat as I put it down and cross-over to the window. There's a perfect circle cut out of the glass and nothing else amiss. 

Growling, I rake a hand through my hair, then pull my phone out of my pocket. Cas picks up after three rings. "Cas," I growl. "Get over here. Crowley's left me a present. Apparently security systems mean dick to this asshole." 

"Remain calm. Do not touch anything. Do you suspect an intruder is still in your home?" Cas starts panting and I can hear his feet slapping the pavement rhythmically over the tinny speaker on the phone. Running. Literally I called him and he's come running. A tingle goes through me, and my breath hitches. 

"N-no?" It comes out like more of a question than I intended, breathing un-even. 

"Alright." pant pant. "Be there shortly." pant, dead air. Of course. I just passed him on the street moments ago. 

Picking my knife back up, I look around again. Can't hear anything, other than the ticking watch, but.... I haven't checked my bathroom and bedroom. The smart thing to do, would be wait for Cas to get here; wait for back-up. I snort. Yeah, like Crowley's going to be hiding in my closet or behind my shower curtain like a scared little kid. Or the boogieman.  
There's a picture: Crowley misshapen and ghost-white, with a huge blue mohawk and an enormous mouthful of predatory teeth. It's so ridiculous I laugh out loud, shaking my head. Fuck it, I'm no damsel in distress. I tug on my lip, sigh, and open the door to my bedroom. Nothing out of place, same old battered dresser and night-table. Same art deco brass lamp that narrowly avoided being smashed the other day. Wait... 

I peer closer at it, flick the light-switch on and walk over. The freaking lamp shade's been replaced, and it's purple pink and blue. I frown and chew on my lip. Like the... the bisexual pride flag? I pocket my knife and walk over. Scowling, I rip the lampshade off and turn it over in my hands. Crowley's still got the same lousy sense of humour, apparently. Awesome. Just freaking awesome. Scrubbing a hand down my face, I set the shade back down on the night stand and prowl over to my closet. Ripping the doors open, nothing seems out of place. But I can't shake the feeling... 

I spin on my heel and stalk towards the dresser. Riffling through my underwear drawer, I spot a glimmer of an unfamiliar colour. Could be they're Cassandra's, maybe. Gut churning, I pull them out. Too large for her. Silk, which she wouldn't wear, and a freaking silk-screened snidely whiplash style mustache on it. There's a knock on my door and the panties slip through my fingers like I've been burned. 

"Dean? Your neighbour let me. Dean?"  
I jog over to the door and swing it open. I didn't remember even closing it. My breath is stolen from me as I stare at Cas. He's flushed, high points of colour on his cheeks and ears, sweaty tousled hair falling over his eyes and sticking up every which way. 

"Yeah." I swallow thickly, licking my lips, rolling my bottom lip between my teeth as Cas starts moving into my personal space. 

"Dean, may I come in?" Oh duh, of course, I'm blocking the damn doorway. Awkwardly, I scuttle aside and Cas's chest brushes against my chest and shoulder as he slides past. I take a slower deep breath, catching that peppermint, honey-tinged clean sweat musk and my dick twitches. Letting my breath out slowly through my nose, I pad after Castiel as he looks around. He checks the bathroom, and I look over his shoulder to see no-one there. Letting out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, I walk back to the living room and sit down heavily while Cas checks out my room. 

His deep blue eyes regard me as he sits adjacent to me on the couch; I've taken the comfy chair. Hunching forward, he frowns thoughtfully. "Hole in the window aside, nothing seems overly un-toward here..." 

"Yeah." I bark a laugh. "Fucker's subtle. Had to go looking like some kind of demented Easter egg hunt." I blow out a breath, tug at my lips. "I know what you said, but I couldn't help nosing around. He's been at my stuff." My stomach rolls as I realize I could be finding Crowley's little presents for weeks, turning up where I'd least expect. A constant reminder that I'm not safe here. Here, in my own freaking house. Awesome. 

"Dean..." my eyes snap back up to Cas's face, full of warmth and understanding. It's so earnest I have to look away. "Dean, it's fine." He rests a warm hand on my leg. 

"Yeah, ok." I swallow. He pulls out his phone and starts typing. Huh. He's got a blackberry. 

"Tell me what you have noticed so far." 

I fold my thumb in, and stick my other four fingers out, check off the offending items on my fingers. "Fancy-pants watch. Ridiculous underwear. Gay-ass lamp-shade..." Just my middle finger is left and I flip Cas off with a smirk.  
"Sure there's more. In fact, if he really is still the same idiot he was in high school..." I get to my feet and head to where I keep the shot-glasses. Cas looks on curiously. It takes all of 0.2 of a second for me to find what I'm looking for. Triumphant, I throw the baggie onto Cas's lap, and sit back down, steepling my fingers together. 

Cas looks at the bag, then looks at me blankly. "Kitschy drink umbrellas?" 

"A-yup." I stare at Cas darkly, giving my best Gendo Ikari impersonation. 

"This is..." 

"Almost like a cat bringing presents, yeah. About as freakin' gross, too." Cas gets up and walks to the kitchen table, putting the stupid drink umbrellas down. He picks up the watch. "Pretty sure that's got a timer counting down on it," I call over. 

"Thirty-six hours, two minutes." Cas picks up the Godforsaken card, reads it, puts it down. I feel his stare burning a hole through me. 

"Dean." 

"Hai." I've got my forehead pressed to my clasped hands. What would Gendo Ikari do? Probably send a clone of his dead wife to assassinate Crowley. Lucky me, that's not an option. 

"I really, _really_ , don't want to do this. However, we're going to have to get a forensics team in here." 

I blow out a breath and scowl. It wasn't enough Crowley had busted in here, again, now a bunch of likely judgmental pricks were gonna' get their paws all over my shit too? A fleeting hilarious image of a raccoon in a cop uniform pawing through my trashcan makes me snort a laugh. 

"Sure, Cas. Why not?" I glare up at him and give him an empty grin. "Every Tom, Dick, Harry, and Sally going through my crap. What privacy I got left anymore, huh?" 

Cas has come over to me while I'm ranting; he puts a hand on my shoulder. "Dean... I know this is difficult." I swat his hand off of me. 

"Don't. Make the damn call, let's get this over with." I stare a hole into the carpet and Cas backs away. 

"Yes, of course." He retrieves his phone, makes the call. 

I resume looking for presents Crowley left me, so the amount of pawing through my shit done by the cops is minimal. Also so they'll be taken as evidence and I won't have to freaking look at them anymore. I find a few more obvious things, like a sparkly feather boa, a riding crop, and fuzzy handcuffs. Also a couple not so obvious things, like a bottle of ice-wine and a fancy pen. Everywhere. He'd been everywhere. No room in the house was untouched. I shove the pile of crap into Cas's arms while two cops are checking out my window, ignore his hurt look and snatch my laptop bag. 

"Going out. I'll be at the coffee shop two blocks from here. Call me when you're done." I yell over my shoulder. I didn't get any calls last night, but I still need to check my work e-mails. 

The puffy little clouds and the cheery blue sky seem to mock me. I have to consciously steer away from thinking about what Crowley left me, if all those things fit into some bigger picture. Every time I put it aside, the freaking timer pops up and with it a fresh surge of panic. 35 hours. 35 hours from now. 9 pm tomorrow and Crowley will probably come see me again. Expecting an answer, or God only fucking knows. 

"Yep. Just a beautiful fucking day for things to go straight to shit," I mutter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this... don't forget to leave me C&C!


	15. Saturday: afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets an unexpected email; he and Cas share lunch and get to know each-other better which is _totally not a date, what the hell _.__

The coffee shop is a safe haven, all warm-stained wood, big open windows, comforting brown and grey. Pushing past the double doors, I squint as my eyes adjust from being outside. I run them over the menu on the wall, not parsing what I'm seeing quite yet, but then again, I don't really need to. I scrutinize the blackboard while I'm in line, but it's likely I'll just order the same damn thing as always.  
With half a mind, I get out my phone and scroll through my emails. A couple words catch my eye. "small bug" "issue" "minor patch" nothing that can't wait, really. 

"Hi! What can I get you?" 

My head snaps up and I grin sheepishly at the barista, having failed to note I shuffled forward a few moments ago. 

"Hi! Uhh... large vanilla iced coffee. Go easy on the sugar, sugar." I grin and she gives a little smile back. 

"Sure! You got it." The perky blonde goes briskly about making my drink while her friend takes my cash. 

I take my drink over to the bar against the window, on the shaded side of the building. Alright. I set up my laptop on the counter and click on the minor patch e-mail. Looks like it resolves most of the smaller bugs, but I decide to go through it with a fine-toothed comb come Monday morning. I groan. Here it is, Saturday morning, and thinking like that makes it feel like the freaking weekend is already over. I look through my e-mails again and one catches my eye. The sender is some weird domain I think sounds familiar from secondhand knowledge of the dark-net. The user is Boris. Awesome. With an eye-roll, I contemplate just trashing it without looking. But, my Godforsaken curiosity gets the better of me. 

_Hello, Squirrel,_ it opens. 

_Hope you enjoy the nuts I've left you. If you're at all curious about the watch, consider it advance notice of my next little caper: I'm going to make your brother disappear._

I crush the coffee cup in my hand, white-knuckled with rage that boils through me. I continue reading the e-mail through a haze of red. 

_Of course, I might not just stop there. I've always hungered for the finer things in life, such as tears from an old friend. Embrace me, be my man Friday, and none of this has to happen. **We** could rule the world, you and I. Give **us** a chance. _

_Kisses,  
your friendly neighbourhood gentleman thief_

Some coffee has spilled on the counter and my laptop. Thankfully, none got on the keyboard. I wipe it off with a napkin and then slam my laptop shut in disgust, swearing under my breath. I get to my feet and rake a hand through my now sweaty hair. My heart's pounding like I just ran a freaking marathon. 

"Christ!" I yell, slamming my hand onto the counter. 

"Sir? I'm sorry we're going to have to ask you to leave." 

I turn to find the blonde barista, saucer-eyed and wringing her hands. _Awesome_. 

"Yeah, sure." I stow my computer back in my bag, throw the crushed cup in the trash on the way out. 

I know it's irrational—I know it's playing straight into Crowley's grubby hands. But dammit, I want my little brother where I can keep an eye on him. I want him watching my back, while I watch his. Just like in the good ol' days of dad's drunken benders. I dial Sam, knowing that even if I sit on it all night, my feelings won't change. 

"Sammy, I changed my mind. Shake a tail-feather, get your ass up here."  
  


  
***  


  


I head back to my place and the forensic techs are just starting to pack up. I tell Cas about the e-mail. He swears; paces holes in the carpet as he reads Crowley's forwarded message. After a couple laps around the living room, Cas shuts down, gets his cop face on. "You believe he is a danger to your brother, Sam?" 

"I don't know what to believe, Cas. All I _know_ is that Sam's coming up so I can keep an eye on him, and if Crowley so much as **breathes** on my brother funny, I will rip his fucking lungs out!" 

"Calm, Dean. Crowley isn't here, nothing's happened to Sam, everything is fine. Don't let him get to you, it would give him far too much pleasure." 

I take a deep breath, let it out slowly through my nose, count to ten. "Yeah, I know, Cas. I know." 

"Hey, we're all wrapped up here, detective Novak." The tech's a thin slip of a thing, her smile somehow shy and professional at the same time. 

"Excellent work, Hester. I'll see you later today for the lab results." 

"Count on it. C'mon Inias, let's get out of here and grab some lunch." 

Cas looks over at me. "An excellent suggestion. Dean, would you like to follow suit?" 

I flop down on the couch, run a hand through my hair. "Dunno, Cas. I was just out. Don't feel like going out again right now." 

"If it's not too presumptuous, I could order us some take-out?" 

"Sure thing, Cas. Whatcha' thinking? I'm kinda' really not in the mood to care." 

Cas frowns for a moment. "Guess that means pizza, then. Pepperoni ok?" 

"Yeah, sure. S'long as it's not that Hawaiian bullshit, don' care." I mumble, slumping back against the couch. Feels kinda' nice to be looked after. I'm glad Cas has spared me the flirting. I feel so damn tired. "Pizza Garden, ok? None of that Dominos crap." I point to where the brochures are stacked on the kitchen counter. 

I can hear Cas's smile in his voice. "I was under the impression you were indifferent." 

" _Standards_ , man. Friends don't let friends waste cash on inferior 'za." 

Cas leaves to grab the food; I take the opportunity to make more coffee, and head to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. There's an unfamiliar bottle of cologne on the counter. "Son of a bitch!" 

I don't have the energy to do what I really want, which is throw the bottle against the wall and watch it smash. Besides, that'd just stink up the house anyway. Trudging back to the kitchen, I fix a cup of coffee on auto-pilot, now it's finished brewing. I toss some brandy in for the hell of it and pound it back. Immediately I'm on my second cup and feeling a little loose-limbed by the time I buzz Cas back in. 

"Hey," I grin up at him, "You must be a ninja, 'cause that's some expert timing you got there." 

Cas's smile is small and lop-sided as he puts the pizza down on the scuffed chrome-ridged table. 

"Don't bother with plates, man. Bring that beauty over here. Gimme." I make grabby hands. 

Cas shakes his head and tuts. " _Manners_ , Dean." 

"Don' know, don' currr." 

Cas shoots me a pointed look before rooting around in the cupboards for plates. 

"Left of the sink," I groan and rub at my eyes. "Are you seriously going to make me get up? I am wiped, dude." 

Cas arches an eyebrow at me, setting the plates down. "Dean, I am aware you've had a trying morning—" 

"You said it, pal," I mutter, which Cas completely ignores as he opens the pizza box. 

"—But it is only noon, and you are being a poor host." 

I scrub a hand through my hair and scowl. "You don't like? You can take off. Just leave the pizza." 

Cas is giving me another smile, this one crinkling the corners of his eyes, and I realize he's teasing. "Don't ever change, Dean. I like you treating me with such informality." 

"Damn straight 'm not changing," I mumble, finishing my boozy coffee before swinging to my feet. I go grab a knife and fork before sitting down. Cas seems the type. As much as I enjoy seeing him make himself at home, I'm not a total dick. 

I shove the fork and knife over to Cas's side of the table as he parcels out a couple of slices pizza each. Eating the floppy thin crust by holding it over my plate, I watch him cut the first slice into roughly the same size pieces with maddening methodicalness. "You got a formula worked out by surface to volume ratio, Mr. Wizard?" I chew open-mouthed around a hot slice to cool it down before the cheese burns my tongue. 

"Yes," Cas replies without inflection, spearing three pieces together in a little stack on his fork. Which is, you know, **easily** the weirdest way to eat pizza that I've ever seen. It's like this guy's a freaking space alien. I frown thoughtfully as I chew. Maybe he's an aspie. It'd explain a lot, I guess. 

With a mental shrug, I swallow and take another bite. "Whatever works for you, pal." We're quiet awhile, just enjoying our food. I don't watch him eating because it'll drive me nuts. Side-eyeing him, I ask, "In all seriousness, doesn't it get cold?" 

Cas tilts his head and I can hear the eye-roll in his voice. "That's why I stack the pieces, Dean. It's like you have no appreciable grasp of logic. Which is odd, considering your job." 

I turn to look at him, favouring Cas with a shit-eating grin that shows my half-chewed food as I talk. "No shit, Sherlock. Glad to see the tax-payer dollars hard at work in that steel trap there." 

"Yes, well." 

"Well what?" 

"Nothing. Which is what you're getting fast, in terms of left-over pizza." 

"Awww, _c'mooon_ don't be like that, Cas." I whine, as he gives me a fond lop-sided smile. 

"Very well, you spoiled child. Clearly, someone's daddy didn't spank him enough." 

"Maybe he stopped because I liked it too much, ever think of that?" My voice goes higher and cracks a little; mentally I wince. I've spent nearly half of my life without my dad, but it still hurts. A hot little spur of pain shoots through my gut whenever the topic of fathers is unexpectedly mentioned, no matter how indirectly. "Cas, Dad died when I was a teenager." 

Cas's eyes widen and his arms jerk visibly at what is likely the urge to clap a hand over his mouth. This guy, I swear. It's like the seminary made him half little old lady. I look down and speak to the grease smear on my plate. 

"Then I was away from my kid brother, who was 12 years old and lost Dad too, for all that goddamn time. All that lost fucking time when him and Mom needed me because Crowley is a fucking asshole." He gives me a minute, which I use to get up and make another cup of coffee. I hover at the counter, uncertain. Stirring my spoon, hearing it clink against the cup over and over. 

"Dean, I am sorry. Would you like to hear a story about my time in vice?" 

Oh, _this_ should be good. "Sure, Cas. Fire away." Seems he remembered that I like distractions when I'm being a mopey-ass shit. 

"It was easy at first, working in vice. I was a nervous john, sent to entrap women for soliciting. I felt so sorry for the girls, most of them had turned to the trade from necessity. I know something of the pressures that can lead someone to run away from home. My own father—" Cas lapses in silence, a dark look crossing his face.  
"Needless to say, but I shall nonetheless, we learned much about returning the wayward to the flock at seminary. Our counseling and training to do with trauma survivors was extensive. Most workers will put up a front and use drugs to distance themselves from ... well, themselves." Cas frowns thoughtfully, folding his hands on his lap. It looks like a loose version of hands clasped in prayer. 

I take a long swallow of coffee, then nod for him to go on. 

"It was the ones who choose sex work that made me question things. Having spent so much time denying myself and stamping down on sexual feelings because of my faith, I was unsure if I was attracted to men or women. They weren't very common, but I encountered them all the same; bold, sober free-spirits who loved carnality, their bodies, their sexuality, and choice of profession. These women loved life and couldn't imagine living any other way. I thought them wrong, misguided, debasing themselves...." His blue eyes cloud over. I fight to not go to him, rubbing a thumb along the handle of my mug. 

Castiel surprises me by breaking into a sunny smile. "But I was wrong. A particularly empowered woman kissed me." He runs a hand through his hair. "She obviously enjoyed it and after a moment, I did as well." He laughs, showing his gums. I smile at him and keep drinking my coffee. 

"Dean, my first kiss was from a prostitute." I do a spit-take and he laughs harder as I sputter. 

I look at him in amazement as he pounds me on the back, and I start laughing too, and then I'm laughing and choking at the same goddamn time. Castiel fucking guffaws, huge booming laughs in that deep alto. 

Finally, we trail off into chuckles. "Dean, the look on your face..." 

"Yeah, well, ex-priest's first kiss is from a hooker? Bit Jesus and Mary Magdalene, ain't it?" 

"Well, I was never consecrated." 

"Yeah, but you were definitely desecrated." 

That sets off another round, and I'm wiping tears from my eyes as we stop. Cas's hand stays on my shoulder, seemingly forgotten. 

I grin up at him in amazement. "Cas, man, you are a freaking riot." 

"I stop riots, Dean. It is part of my job description." Cas frowns down at me from way too far into my personal space. 

It spills out before I can help myself, "Oh yeah? Well can I see your baton?" I smirk, and flush up to the tips of my ears, ignoring the alarm bells clanging in my head. 

"No, not right now.... but if you like, I can demonstrate how to do a standard take-down." He smiles slyly at me; gives me the Dumbledore twinkly eyes again. 

I swallow thickly, mouth gone dry as bone. I tear my eyes away from him and finish my cold coffee. Castiel Novak : 5 million points, Dean Winchester : zero. I swear to God it's pointless to keep score in our endless game of gay chicken. 

I put my mug back down and Castiel trails a finger up my throat, past my Adam's apple and over my lips. I want to back away, but Cas's other hand is cupping the back of my neck. My tongue darts out to lick my lips on reflex and swipes over the pad of his thumb as he palms my jaw. Cas hisses. 

Little Dean is way more interested in these proceedings than he should be. Cas tasted like sweat, ink, coffee, and sugar. Guess that's one benefit to eating pizza with a freakin' fork and knife. I close my eyes and struggle not to go for another taste. 

Cas withdraws his thumb from my lower lip and rests it in the cleft of my chin. "Dean. Dean, look at me." 

I can't. I'm paralyzed again. He turns my head for me. "Please, look at me." He pleads softly. I raise my eyes to meet his, heart strings tugged. 

"Dean..." he whispers my name like a psalm. "The world is not going to end if you act on this attraction." 

My skin prickles and I bolt up from my chair so fast it tips over. "Oh yeah? 'Cause that was such a _fucking awesome_ idea the last time something like this happened! You're not making a good case for yourself, asshole! It'd be a fucking conflict of interest if we did anything..." I break off, panting. Castiel only has stunned silence to offer.  
"Doesn't make you look trustworthy, pal. And **that's** what I need right now, not some dick. Not someone who keeps pushing me when I'm feeling..." 

Castiel finishes for me, voice hoarse like he's the one who's been yelling: "Vulnerable." He sighs heavily, and I deflate. Cas's hand touches my shoulder, and I bat it off. 

"No." I grind out. 

Castiel reaches for me again and I struggle, but he pulls me into a hug without my say-so."Get off, you son of a bitch!" When nothing else happens, and all I can feel is Castiel's warmth as he holds me close, I stop struggling. 

"Dean, I am very sorry for whomever's hurt you, betrayed your trust. I swear to you I've stayed on because I worry and want to protect you." He tips my head up so I can see his eyes shining with sincerity. "I honestly believe I will keep your best interests closest to my own heart, over every other officer." 

"Yeah, well, you've done a bang-up job so far," I mumble out of reflex. 

His features close off and he's stone-faced; officer Novak again. His hands drop from my shoulders as he gets a thousand-yard stare. My gut clenches and it hurts physically and mentally. I swallow, lick my lips, and my mouth works but no sound comes out as he heads to the door. He pauses with his hand on the knob. 

"I'll do better." He leaves and I'm frozen there as the door shuts behind him, left with the ghost of his fingers gripping my arm tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do so love me some UST.... how about you guys? ;)


	16. Saturday: afternoon to early evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean fails at adulting, but manages to pick Sam up from the airport.

Freaking enough of this garbage already! I turn the TV on and catch up with Finn and Jake for awhile. Then I watch Startrek: TNG. One raises my mood, the other makes me introspective. Fuck the haters, TV's better than any drug or self-help crap most days. 

Tugging on my lower lip and staring out the window, I try to focus on what exactly I was supposed to be doing today. Grocery shopping, cleaning the house, and picking up my new visa at the bank, probably. Just kind of spinning my wheels. Should I even be here, at home? If I have to deal with Crowley tomorrow, it'd be better to do it under controlled circumstances. Being chased out of your own house is a pussy-ass thing to do, anyway. 

Ok, so where does that leave me? Having the cops bug my house and maybe wearing a wire tomorrow is a start. I still gotta head to the airport in a few hours and grab Sammy. The thought of leaving my house empty again makes my stomach roll. I'm so sick of this shit. This crap with Crowley is supposed to be in the past, dammit. What the fuck is he even after, anyway? I'm not dumb enough to think he came out here just for me; I'm sure this is just sleight of hand that has the added perk of annoying the crap out of me. 

Guess that makes me an idiot, because it means I'm just pulling out my phone and Googling Crowley now: smuggling, theft, making deals with countries on the no-fly list, pages and pages of it. Huh. He really has been busy working on becoming a bigger dick this whole time. I really doubt I had anything to do with criminal enterprises; his mom was a psycho gold-digger whose husbands kept turning up dead of "heart attacks" and AFAIK, his dad's been locked in solitary since before the Berlin Wall fell thanks to some IRA-related indiscretions. I Google Crowley's dad; yep, still stuck in Riker's, serving his second of four consecutive life sentences. 

I'm doubly grateful I asked Sam up here, he'll have no problems getting to the bottom of this. Hey, I bet he and Charlie would make a scary good team. I check the time: 3pm. Yep, her highness should be stumbling out of bed just about now. I pick up the phone and call her. 

"Hey prince Charles!" 

"I told you not to call me that! I look like a balding, jug-eared old fart to you?" 

"You really want me to answer that?" 

" **Yes**." 

"No, you look like a red-headed step-child." 

Charlie huffs. "Whatever. Heard it before." She yawns. "Sooo.... what's happenin', Cap'n?" 

"Remember that asshat Crowley?" 

"Yeah, that guy you got busted with jr. year, right?" 

"Well, yeah _you_ were a junior then. Yeah, him. He's popped up again and he's making my life hell. Son of a bitch busted into my place twice, _and_ he's threatening Sam." 

"Holy poop! Dean, are you alright? For serious, now." 

"Yeah. I'm gonna get Sammy up where I can keep an eye on him. Feel a lot better with him watching my back, too." 

"Well, if you're sure—" 

"Yeah. Yeah...."I rake a hand through my hair. "Listen, Charlie: This ain't just a social call. Crowley said he's gonna be back here at 9pm tomorrow." 

Charlie swears. 

"Yeah, I know. Can you do me a solid and look into him? Like what kind of crap he steals, where we might find him so we can head him off at the pass? Imma get Sammy working on this, too. Between the three of us, maybe we can get the drop on him." 

"Oh Dean! How noir! Le chien noir! Sure, let's bust him!" 

"Thatta girl. There's that dork all the ladies give it up for." 

"Damn straight! Detective Middleton on the case! But seriously, isn't Gabe's dreamy brother helping you out?" 

"Yeah, well... he's got other crap on his plate. Like minding the house. We got this, OK?" 

"Sure, boss man. If you say so." 

"I do." 

We say our goodbyes and hang up. I sigh with relief. If Cas is too busy both thinking with and being a dick, we can take this from another angle. In the meantime, I do the last couple days worth of dishes, then smack my forehead. The freaking window! I call my landlord and ask her which guy she uses for this crap. Naomi is more intensely displeased about the situation then worried about me; I have to endure a half hour of intense grilling. After making promises about the cops keeping an eye out, I give up and give her Cas's number. She can be his problem now. It's the least he can do. My mind's running a mile a minute, but I'm out of gas. I flop down face-first into my pillow, hug it, punch it, swear and roll onto my back. 

This is the most annoying day I've had in a freaking series of them. I glare angrily at the ceiling and then don't remember anything for awhile.  
  


  
***  


Groaning, I roll over and look at the clock. 7 P.M. and it's still annoyingly, disgustingly cheerful outside. Like the middle of a freaking Disney movie, with the chirping birds and soft drone of insects. Time to go grab Sammy. No time to stop for coffee, dammit. 

The trip out is as crappy as usual; I get cut off a couple of times and nearly miss the damn exit. Sam's waiting for me in the pick-up area already so I don't have to pay the stupid sky-high parking fees. Pulling into the open spot a couple dozen yards away, I see Sammy huff and stalk up to the car in my rear-view. I grin. Ahh, annoying my little brother. Surely one of life's finer pleasures. Sam opens the back passenger-side door and tosses his lame hippie backpack in. He clambers in next to me an instant later, all gangly limbs and girly long hair. 

"Sammy!" I pull him over and thump him too hard on the back. "Good to see you, you son of a bitch!" 

Sam rolls his eyes, but hugs me back with one arm. "We have the same mother, Dean." 

"Yeah, I know. Though sometimes I wonder, Samantha." I let go, shoot him a shit-eating grin, and escape the airport parking lot. 

"For a guy so worried about me, I wasn't expecting you to be late picking me up, dude." 

My fingers white-knuckle the steering wheel and my jaw works a bit before answering. "Yeah, well. I had a "trying morning"." Laying the sarcasm on thick, I know Sammy will catch the air quotes. 

Sam sighs. "Yeah, I know." 

I snort. "You know don't the half of it, Sammamaphone." 

"Then tell me, sheesh." 

We pull to a stop waiting in a conga-line of doom for leaving the airport. "Easier if I show you." I dredge up Crowley's email on my phone, toss it to Sam. "Here." 

"Ok, thanks." Out of the corner of my eye I see Sammy frowning until he's got full on wifi forehead going. "Dude, that's fucked up." 

"Yeah." I clench my jaw. "Awesome, ain't it?" I spit off. 

I glance over at Sam, see him swipe the phone to close the e-mail app. A flicker of light and a few bars of Batman: TAS let me know I've got a text. 

"Ack! Sorry Dean, I didn't mean to read that." 

We inch forward a foot. "Yeah, yeah. Gimme." I curl my fingers on my right hand impatiently. 

"That was a weird message, though." 

Foot on the brake, I look over at Sam again. "Yeah?" 

"'I apologize for my earlier indiscretions.' Who talks like that?" 

I groan, taking the phone from Sam. "Someone who narrowly missed being collared by the church, that's who." 

Sam's eyebrows sky-rocket up his massive forehead, but I ignore him. Crawl forward a couple of feet in line, mutter under my breath about how shitty this is for Baby's transmission, then read the damn message once we've stopped again. 

_I apologize for my earlier indiscretions, Dean. You are correct that I should be more circumspect regarding my interest in you until this investigation is over. There is just something about you I find irresistible._ I flush bright red. _Perhaps it is because you are such an immovable object._ Ugh, what a freaking dad joke. 

I text back: _Whatever Cas. Keep it in your pants_. 

_You make it so hard, Dean._ Comes back seconds later, with a photo attachment. My jaw drops and I nearly spin out Baby's tires. Cas sent a picture of what is most definitely a sizable erection pressed in outline against a familiar pair of pleated navy slacks. 

"Dean? Dean, what the hell?" 

A car horn honks beside me and in a daze, I pull onto the on-ramp. "Oh, nothing, Sammy. Just got an aspie ex-priest cop sending me dick pics." 

Sam snatches my phone from where it fell beside me on the bench-seat and I'm grateful he doesn't get an eyeful of what little Dean is doing right now. Because he's way perkier than he should be, sitting next to my little brother. And now I'm thinking about my dick like it's a separate part of me. **Awesome**. Totally got my head screwed on straight. "Heh heh." Head. Screwed. Straight. Before I know it I'm laughing hysterically, big gales of it. Sam joins in because apparently having me laugh like an idiot is hilarious. 

We've calmed down at about half-way home, occasionally looking at each-other and barely stifling the scattered unmanly giggle. 

"Seriously Sammy, quit it." 

"You first." 

I sigh and roll my eyes. "Alright. All clear. No joy in Mudville. 'K?" 

"Yeah. Seriously though, shit that guy is bold. And packing." Sam whistles appreciatively. 

"Yeah, yeah. You _would_ know. Don't remind me." 

"Seriously though, Dean, that's sexual harassment. You should report him to his superiors, get him taken off the case." 

"Nah, Sammy. He's Gabe's brother. Besides, I don't mind that much." 

"Oh, so it's like that, huh?" Sam's grin is sly from the corner of my eye. 

"Shaddap, Sammy." Damn bratty little brothers. 

Sam—damn his eyes—smirks, speaking volumes with his smug silence. 

"I _knew_ there was a reason I didn't keep you around," I mutter and crank up the radio. 

Sam tries to talk— 

"La la la la la I can't hear you!" I shout before singing along obnoxiously to Fog Hat's "Slow Ride".  
"Slow ride! Take it ea-eeeaaasy!" 

I ignore Sam's constipated expression.  
  


***  


We pull up to my apartment and I park in the garage. We head in through the grey cement cage relieved only by black-stenciled letters and pipes; I let Sam carry his stuff because he's not two. Stepping into the creaky old elevator that takes an eternity, I get a bad feeling about this. I jab in the button for my floor and before the doors have shut all the way, Sam breaks the silence. 

"So, what's the deal, Dean?" 

"What deal?" I grumble. 

"With you and officer friendly." 

"There is no deal. Pool's closed. Due to AIDS and fail." Stupid ancient elevators. Take a goddamn eternity. I am _so not looking forward to this_. 

Sam gives me a classic bitch-face. 

"It'll get stuck that way, you're not careful, Samantha. And then what're you gonna do for work?" 

"P.o.v. from the waist down." 

"Ugh, gross. Moving onto SFW topics, you remember Charlie?" We've finally ascended a whole damn floor. Hooray. 

"Yeah, your genius hacker co-worker you got a crush on?" 

"Yes. Shut-up. I was thinking you could put those two sexy, obnoxiously big brains together and ferret out what the hell Crowley's up to." 

"Oh. Yeah. That's a good idea." 

"Keeps you outta my hair. We're on a—" I check my watch, "—25 hour deadline before Crowley pulls shit again." 

"Really not much time." 

"You'll think of somethin'." 

"You got this place bugged yet?" 

I look at Sam incredulously. "NSA, Sammy. You think between them and facebook there ain't enough dirt on me already?" I had been thinking about it, earlier, but.... 

"Grow **up** , Dean." 

The damn elevator finally gets to my floor and I step out sideways, turning around to face Sam.  
"Sammy, look, I just had a bunch of cops tramp through here. Don't I get some damn privacy?" 

Sam rolls his eyes. "Suck it up." He leans forward, earnest. "Listen, Dean. The cops haven't been able to catch him watching from the outside. This is the logical thing to do. Unless you _want_ Crowley to escape to fight another day." 

I frown. "Yeah... maybe." 

"Maybe, nothing. You _know_ I'm right." 

We get to my door and I put the key in the lock. Sighing, I shoot Sammy a glance before opening the door. "Yeah, OK." 

"OK." 

"Yeah." We step inside and I flip the light on; the sun faded away behind the hills sometime during the drive. 

"Good. Nice to know you're not a stubborn ass all the time." Sam deposits his duffel bag in a corner of the living room. 

"It's nothing I wasn't thinking before. It's just, with Cas..." I rub at the back of my neck and pocket my keys. 

"You're worried he'll be creepin'." Sam looks up at my face, trying to catch my eye, which he fails at. 

"Yeah,"I sigh. "Kinda." 

"If you feel that strongly—" 

"Yes, I know. Look, I like the guy, OK?" I flush. "Maybe he's a bit of a horndog, but no one makes senior detective that fast without being damn good." We take off our shoes in silence. Sam frowns thoughtfully. 

"If that's how you feel..." 

"Yeah. It is. So freaking drop it already." 

"Droppin' it like it's hot. No problem." Sam chuckles and sits down on the couch, puts his feet up. 

"You've always had shitty taste in music, Sam. Your line of work sure hasn't improved it any." 

Sam rolls his eyes. He must be going for some kind of record today. "I have a respectable job, Dean. CEO of my own company." 

"I'm not just the president, I'm also a client?" 

"Whatever, dude. You know I mostly do production now. Also my girls are all really nice and intelligent people. You should come down sometime." 

"Don't think so. I don't need my little brother to wingman me skanks." 

Sam frowns. "I really wish you were more sex-positive, Dean. You're not very respectful at times." 

"I'm plenty sex positive. Just don't wanna be, you know, HIV positive." 

"I know it is a **difficult** , monumentally hard task for you, but stop being a dick, OK?" 

I sigh. "Alright already. Geez." I pad over to the fridge and grab the box of cold left-over pizza. Feel a small pang looking at it. Not an auspicious way to break bread with my bff's brother or my brother. I set out some beer with the pizza and try for a smile. "What do you say I call Charlie and get this slumber party started?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C&C is always welcome! This was the very first time I wrote Sam, started feeling around the edges at a character I found fairly unlikable for most of SPN's broadcast history. What do you guys think of his choice of career here?


	17. Saturday: Evening part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quality chill time for Sam, Dean and Charlie. Sibling rivalry ensues when Castiel comes over to bug the apartment and Sam becomes interested in him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep your eyes peeled for in-jokes, fellow hardcore fans ;)

Sam grimaces, bitch-facing so hard it's amazing he hasn't grown a vagina and a furry tail.  


"You said _I_ had terrible taste in music? What's this evil circus music?" 

"Shaddap, Samantha. You got no taste if you're dissing the Miz." 

"Yeah, Sam! Marveilles is a **classic** album!" Charlie pipes up indignantly. 

The two of them are on my couch and lazy chair; laptops spread out and papers, notepads everywhere. It looks like a H&R block exploded in my living room and it's only been a couple hours— _Brise_ comes on and Sam makes a disturbed face. "It's so damn... jaunty." 

"Well J-Rock's the only music Charlie and I agree on, so stuff it Moose-knuckle." Moose...squirrel...Boris. Grimacing, I remember Crowley. 

Sam shakes his head and Charlie snorts, amused. "Well, that and INXS. I'm not even straight and I think Micheal Hutchin's voice is sex-in-a-pan." 

I hide my scowl around a beer bottle. I feel about as useful as tits on a nun right now. I memorize languages and exploit how the pieces fit together. Sam and Charlie are the researchers. All I can do is keep them caffeinated and offer background data to field their questions on Crowley. I pick at my bottle's label, determinedly not wondering what Cas is doing right now. 

A couple more beers and a half hour later, texting him back seems like the best idea I've had all day. _Dad jokes and porn? Hell of a 2fer Castiel_

_Were you so displeased by the effect you have on me?_

_Keep it PG pal. Listen you gonna get some mooks over to wire my house ?_?_

_Bug, Dean. And yes, if you'll allow it._

_Well get in here then._

_Alright. I'll be over with a small team shortly. P.S. Have you boarded over your window?_

_Why you planning to Edward Cullen me?_

_I don't understand that reference._

_For the best man just no watching me sleep_

_??? No promises._

I get my ass out of the kitchen chair, grab a couple planks of wood and board over the window. I frown around a mouthful of nails as I pound the hammer. Dammit, I was so busy moping I didn't get my other chores done today. 

"Guys, I'm gonna hit the store, OK? All I've got in the fridge is pizza, and it's not gonna last for much longer. What do you want for snacks?" 

Charlie pipes up. "Doritos and Strawberry Twizzlers." 

"Yes!" Sam high-fives Charlie and I shake my head. 

"Lame. I'll keep the junior mints all to my bad self, then." 

"But they're so refreshing!" Charlie whines, and I hide a grin as I bustle around, putting supplies away. 

"Whatever's fine, so long as the label doesn't read like a science experiment. And don't forget the—" 

"Rabbit food and protein powder. Yeah, Yeah." 

I head out to my car, get greeted by a gentle breeze coming off the Sound.  
"Mmm, s'nice." I don't bother with unzipping my hoodie, just pull it off over my head. I lean onto Baby, put my forehead to the sun-warmed steel and shut my eyes, letting the wind tug at my clothes like a playful kid. 

It's been a long summer. The past week especially so; the hits just keep coming, and not in a Casey Casem weekly top 40 way. After another beat, I sigh and get into my car. Thank fuck I can at least cross the parking lot without being accosted by some weirdo. I drive the six blocks to the grocery store. Shopping is freaking mind-numbingly boring as always and I don't find myself getting excited to try anything new. 

When I get back, my living room is cramped because about five other people are in it and I make six. Can't see Sam or Cas, though. Weird. Charlie waves to me from the comfy chair and I mouth "Sam" at her as she's wearing headphones. She points back to the my bedroom. I dump the groceries on the counter, pick up the Doritos and huck them at Charlie's "gimme" hands. Snagging the accursed Twizzlers, I head back to my bedroom. 

"Hey, Sam—" I start at the sight in front of me, which is my giant of a little brother towering over Cas. 

Cas is squint-eyed, head cocked to one side in confusion, but there's this hard line of resolve in the corners of his mouth and eyes and in his furrowed eyebrows. 

"I got your damn candy." I bean Sam on the head with it and he turns around rubbing the back of his head. 

"Ow! Jerk!" 

"Bitch." I grin as Sam bends down to retrieve the candy, toe it past him and out his reach. Sam huffs in annoyance, moving away from Cas (finally!). 

Cas breaks his silence. "Hello, Dean. We'll be finished shortly. Excuse me." He strides to the living room, and yeah, OK? I missed the uniform. 

I keep my tone neutral as Sam straightens back up. "So..." 

"So." Sam bites off the corner of the package of Twizzlers and fishes one out. 

"You and Cas..." 

"Yeah, me and Cas." Sam breaks into a sunny grin around a mouthful of disgusting plastic fake strawberry straw thing. 

"Dammit Sammy, you gotta get your man-slut on while you're here, too?" 

He huffs and settles back onto my bed, in front of his laptop. "You're one to talk." 

I roll my eyes and crowd next to him on the bed, looking at the computer screen. "You find something?" 

"Maybe. Had to distract officer friendly 'cause he was asking some pointed questions about me and Charlie so I pulled up my site." Sam grins over at me. "You didn't tell me he was such a looker, Dean." 

I grumble under my breath. "Yeah, staring is kind of his thing." 

Sam rolls his eyes at me. "Fine, be obtuse. Anyway, so get this—" 

I bolt up off the bed. "Charlie!" I shoot a panicked look at my brother. "Her lips are looser than a fat guy's stomach pre-gastric bypass!" 

Sam sighs, scrubs a hand through his hair. "Does it really ma—"  
I'm already in the living room by the time he finishes. 

Cas is speaking in crisp professional tones to one of his guys. I try to catch his eye so I can give him a "what the hell" look, but dude's clearly busy. First that thing with my brother, now I'm being stone-walled? This guy flip-flops more than sandals at the beach. 

Something twists in my gut and I mope over to Charlie, lean in close to whisper. "So, no grilling? 

She hums thoughtfully, keeps clicking away. "Nope. Told him I was here for work reasons." She looks up and flashes me a grin. "It's even true." 

I snort and drag a hand through my hair, slouch back onto the sofa. "Yeah, duh." 

I pull out my phone and text Gabriel. _I think my little brother is trying to seduce your little brother not sure if it's disgusting or adorable_

A moment later he comes back with _Hot ;) Busy TTYL_  
Oh yeah, it's Saturday night. Gabe is usually "busy". I look back over at Cas, he looks completely professional and not at all like someone who spends his free time dodging puke from pathetic drunks. 

His tone has the barest hint of warmth as he directs his crew; his eyes search relentlessly, looking for minute differences in angle and distance, I guess. 

I brush past him to grab a beer from the fridge. Guess they got jostled a bit because when I pop the top, the foam rushes out. Cursing, I move it away before any gets on my clothes. Castiel locks eyes with me as I lick foam off the webbing between my index finger and thumb, the tips of my ears burn and feel itchy. Cas's face is entirely passive as he bends down to fiddle with my bookcase in summary dismissal. 

Weird. usually he'd make some weird gay-ass remark or go another round of gay chicken over some crap like that. It's just a little bit pathetic that I already miss his teasing. I clean up my mess and stroll over to check out what's happening, getting up close and personal as I examine what his hands—oh God, why so beautiful—are doing. "Whatcha' got there, Cas?" 

"A pinhole camera. It should allow us to observe your kitchen window." 

"Ooh. 'K." 

I grip his shoulder and turn him to face me; he gives me an annoyed "don't got time for this" look. I ignore the little stab in my gut. "So...." I flash him a cheerful grin. "What are your intentions towards my little brother? Not exactly defending his virtue, 'cause yanno work—" 

"Yes. Work." Cas scowls at me, takes my hand and (OK did my bpm just skyrocket?) removes it from his shoulder.  
"We can ill afford to tarry, Dean. My crew is **tired**. This was very last minute. Let me do my job." 

Oh. Yeah. OK. Right. It wasn't like I hadn't thrown that in the guy's face earlier today. I nod, eyes stinging and sink down into the couch, wishing I could disappear. I drink my beer in silence awhile. 

Charlie is licking Doritos residue off her fingers when she looks over at me. The corner of my mouth barely twitches when I notice the orange smear on her cheek. "Dude-bro, are you seriously moping right now?" she whispers. 

"I dunno. How upset do I get to be that my little brother asked Cas out, and now the dick is stone-walling me?" I jerk my chin in Cas's direction, and I'm not pouting like a sullen teenager, no-sirree-bob. 

Charlie's eyebrows hit her hairline. "Ooooh 'k, when did your life become a show on the CW?" 

I snort and pick at the seam of my jeans. "Dunno, seems to be a theme. Least it's not Dawson's Creek." 

"Guess Cas doesn't want to wait for our lives to be over?" Charlie grins at me sheepishly. I send her the dirtiest look imaginable, snatch her Doritos away. "Just for that," I stuff a small handful of chips in my mouth-hole, "snacking privileges revoked!" Charlie wails in comical dismay as I smirk at her. One of the techs, Hester I think, wanders over. 

"We're finished, Mr. Winchester. The control box is hidden in the back of your closet. Either Ion or myself will walk you through where the mics and cameras are." 

My smile dies as I look around, "Hey, where's your boss?" 

"Detective Novak went to grab some shut-eye. He insisted on taking the midnight to six am shift." 

"Oh." Cas is really serious about his job. About protecting **me**. It seems the hours of the two times Crowley had broken in haven't escaped his notice. Still, it's like I'm chopped liver. Guy was all over me, but the minute my porn star brother shows up, he just brushes me aside? I don't know how to feel. 

I push it down and turn back to the task at hand. OK, a camera has been installed in my clock-alarm-radio, and there is a third above the t.v. covering the front door. The bugs were "soft-taps" that transmitted on a radio band from where the mics were planted. They left my cellphone alone at my request as Crowley hasn't tried that yet. And: I need some privacy or the crawling smothering sensation all this scrutiny causes me is going to make me run screaming for the hills. 

I thank the guy Ion, I guess, for walking me through it, then tune him out while Sammy peppers him with about eleventy-kajillion questions. 

"Hester and I must be going." Ion's eyes beg me for extraction and I arch an eyebrow at Sam's Labrador retriever excitement. 

Sam bites his lip and then smiles. "Sorry. Got excited for work reasons. Have a nice evening." 

"Work? Really Sammy?" 

"Yeah, I think it's a market that hasn't been tapped yet." He grins. "Cinema-verite found-footage style porn." 

Charlie's head snaps up so fast it's amazing she doesn't have whiplash. "Whoa, yeah that could be really hot." 

A truly devious grin crosses my brother's face. "And so cost-effective! Gonna make so much bank, hell yeah!" I get swept up in Sam's enthusiasm and we all high-five. 

"So..." I bite on my bottom lip, roll it in between my teeth while Sam is still grinning. "What's going on with you and Cas?" 

Sam rolls his eyes while settling next to Charlie, looking over her shoulder. "It's called a date? You can't be that old you've totally forgotten. Getting early onset dementia over there? Am I gonna have to put you in a home?" 

"Oh that is it!" I dive for Sammy. Charlie's a true friend, because she holds him down and tickles him with me. Sam's laughter peals in the confines of the living room and a warmth fills my chest that nearly chases the not-so-happy feelings away. 

"You little shit!" Charlie noogies Sam. "Say uncle! Say uncle!" 

"Owww.... yes m-m-mistress!" He gasps. I go for the back of his knees and he nearly kicks me in the face with his freakishly long legs. "Uncle! _Uncle!_ " 

I sit back on my heels on the floor and share a smug smirk with Charlie. "Damn straight!" 

Charlie casts an amused look between my face and Sam's lap. Unfortunately, it's not in time to avoid Sam grabbing my head and pulling my face into his crotch. 

"Ewww! Bad touch!" My cries are muffled into the denim. 

"You're so not! This is proof! Victory!" Charlie and Sam both cackle—the ridiculous assholes—and I stop struggling with a resigned sigh, thoroughly demoralized with a noseful of whatever hippie crap Sam uses to wash his clothes. He relents and lets me go. I shoot him a dirty look and get to my feet, head to the kitchen to fix myself a stiff drink. Why does everyone have to push me, all the time? Get one lousy crush and everyone and their dog is convinced it's true love forever, no matter what you think or feel.


	18. Saturday: evening part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finally confesses to Charlie... about a number of things.

I stop caring about Crowley's threats and decide to hole up in my room and get drunk off my ass. Everyone ganging up on me, pressuring me all the time, it's too much man. I slink off with two soda glasses full of ice and a bottle of Jim Beam. Yep, drink 'till stupid o'clock and black out. Best plan I've had all day. Probably still be good to go for hockey tomorrow, it's early enough. 

I'm 2/5ths through the 26er before I hear a knock on the door. "Dean?" 

"Go 'way." I pull a pillow into my lap and rest my glass—which is cold and wet from condensation—on it. 

Charlie sighs from the other side of the door. "I'm headed out. Getting tired and I've hit a wall. Look, this is ridiculous. I'm coming in, you big lug." 

"Fine." 

Charlie comes in, shuts the door behind her, and gets a disapproving moue when she sees the liqour. "Sam was only teasing earlier, you know? No reason to live down to it by drinking alone on a Saturday." 

I set the glass on my nightstand and some kind of pathetic expression must cross my face because Charlie softens around the eyes. "C'mere," I mutter gruffly, "right here." I spread my legs and pat at the pillow. 

"Oookie-dookie." Charlie climbs over my legs, settles in with the pillow keeping her from my crotch and sharp edges. From the cheekbones upward her face rests on my chest. The usual weird dichotomy of just right and not enough pulls at me as it always does on the rare occasions I indulge in physical affection with Charlie. I put one hand on her hair and rest my chin on top of her head. 

"How do you stand it, Charlie?" 

"Stand what?" 

"Swimming upstream. Constantly going against what the freaking world has told you you're supposed to be?" 

She presses her head into my hand in permission to pet her. I swallow and do so. "I just do, Dean. Because there's nothing else I can do. I only know how to be me, despite how crappy and awkward it sometimes is." 

"I love you," I blurt out. 

"I know," I can hear her grin. 

"Charlie, we got a whole Luke/Leia thing going on here." I stroke her silky hair and try not to be obvious about breathing in her scent (strawberries and cherry blossoms), "You're my sister, but you're not my sister, and sometimes—" I bite violently at the inside of my cheek, trying to keep my breathing even. 

"I know, Dean. It's okay," my little girl says. Anxiety spikes through me and all my hair stands on end. 

"You know? You know and this is still okay?" 

"Yeah. You'd never hurt me. I love you too." 

Maybe I got the wrong of it. Maybe Charlie's really my best friend. Maybe I'm an ungrateful jerk who's spoiled for choice and doesn't deserve any of it. I clear my throat and pause mid-stroke.  
"I... I saw you and on Thursday. With Zelda. You know... out...outside." 

Charlie pushes away and looks up at me, brown eyes wide and anxious."WHAT?" 

"Yeah. I..." I look away, like I should've then. I'm flushed all over with shame and probably crappy for cuddling due to the sweat pouring off of me. "It was _so_ hot and it was really damn shitty of me—" to masturbate while watching you getting eaten out is unsaid as Charlie talks over me. 

"We were all more than a little tipsy that night. I mean, I'm really pissed, but okay. Things happen," she sighs. 

"Yeah. Things happened. Like in my pants." I barely glance up at Charlie, unable to look her in the face as I remember busting a nut watching her come. 

Charlie shoves at me playfully and my head knocks into the wall. "Eww gross!" she's grinning, though. 

The tension in my chest that was stealing my breath eases. I smile and tug her close. "Careful, might get my hetero on you." 

"Ha ha. You big jerk! You've already caught my gay, so I declare this a cootie-neutral zone!" Charlie laughs and I smile a little bit. 

Sam knocks on the door and lumbers into my room without further preamble. "Hey, so everyone knows about the thing now?" 

"Yeah, guess so," I mumble. 

Sam's smug I told-you-so asshole expression makes me want to deck him—just a little. He walks around and perches on the other side of the bed. 

Before he gets started I say, "So, listen guys. Can you cool it with the gay agenda crap?" Then pick my glass back up and resume drinking. 

"What?" Sam gives me this look like I just said I hate apple pie or something. 

"Oh ho, I think the immovable object is being overwhelmed by irresistible force!" Charlie grins. 

"Yeah, well, to crib from Ferris Bueller, Dean's ass is so tight, if you put a lump of coal up there he'd shit a diamond out three days later." Sam snorts, flipping his girly-ass bangs off his forehead. 

"Shut it, Charlie's gay-ass angel." I finish off the now watery bourbon and pour myself in another in the second glass where the ice is only partially melted. 

"Dean—" 

"I mean it," I growl. "It's been a really freaking tough week and I'm tired of being pushed around. I don't know if I'm gonna ride off into a fruity-ass sunset on the back of a unicorn someday like you two assholes, but for fuck's sake show me a little respect and cut it the hell out." 

"Ooh.... okay, Dean," Charlie says. 

"Sure thing, big brother." The two of them exchange a look. Charlie snuggles back up to me; Sam puts his huge paw on my arm. "We're sorry, okay? Just want you to be happy, man. It kills me to see you fighting yourself and struggling with loving yourself, OK?" 

"Oh for God's sake, can it with the hippie love-fest crap, Sam!" 

I down half my glass in one swallow as Charlie says, "Just want you to be the best and most Dean you can be, OK?" 

"You kids are breaking my heart with all this sappy bull-shit. Out!" I point imperiously to the door. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'll just make up the couch by myself while you wallow in here, jerk." 

Charlie detaches herself and kisses me on the forehead despite my scowl. "Goodnight, Dean. I'll text you if something comes to me about Crowley." 

Ugh. right. I drain the rest of my glass and wave them off before pouring another. I'm getting drowsy. Didn't Sam say he thought he was onto something with figuring out Crowley's next move? Well, whatever. My eyelids feel weighted by lead and my limbs feel so heavy even pouring another drink seems like too much effort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm incredibly proud of this scene. I hope you guys find Dean and Charlie's friendship as sweet as I do.


	19. Saturday: late night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up and can't get back to sleep; the solution to that seems obvious. Castiel is a captive audience.

I wake up at some single digit hour with a full bladder and go hit the can. Sammy's sprawled partly off the couch, huge-ass headphones on playing some electronic music I have no idea how he sleeps through. I can hear the heart-stuttering beat leaking from the seal the headphones form from twenty feet away. Pulling the rumpled blanket up from where it's twisted around his legs, I get a decent amount back up to cover him before returning to my room. 

Settling into bed, I stumble a bit and realize I'm still buzzed; dry-eyed and wide awake as I stare up at the ceiling. This'll probably go on for hours, sometimes I get insomnia after a nap if I've been drinking. There's really only one sure-fire way to put myself to sleep. 

I bite my lip and my pulse begins to pound, thumping at my temples. But Cas—I start getting hard—is he out there, right now? Would he see and hear me? I could give him a show... show him I'm worth watching even next to my little brother. I groan and palm my dick. Would he compare us? Sammy's longer but I'm thicker. Would he get hard, so hard he starts staining the front of those crisply pleated navy slacks, leaking fluid thinking about being stretched around me? I pant harshly; just gripping myself in a loose fist. 

"Cas? Are you there? Can you hear me, Castiel?" 

My phone buzzes. Guess I put it on silent when I was watching t.v. earlier or something. I fumble through my pants and grab my phone with the other hand. 

_I heard you, Dean._ His text reads. A chill runs up my spine and my hair stands on end. 

"Cas, can you see me?" 

_I see your legs. You'd have to turn the alarm clock to your right, away from the door_ is his reply. 

"Are you alone in there?" 

_Yes_

I chew on my bottom lip for a moment—can't believe I'm seriously thinking about doing this—as my balls tighten up and press close to my body. What the hell. I'd kind of seen his already. I put the phone down and turn the radio, settle back down and pick up my phone. "What do you see?" 

_Your stomach downwards. Dean..._

I take a deep breath and ruck up my t-shirt, skating a hand along my abs. I stop and toy with the beginning of my treasure trail. Biting my lip, I undo my belt buckle. "Watch, Cas. I'm every bit as good as my brother." I crouch so he gets a look at my ass as I slide the belt out of its loops.  
"That's what you like to do, right? Watch?" I settle back down, undo my fly slowly, button by button.  
"I've seen you staring... burning holes into me like I'll vanish the moment you look away..." 

I run the back of my knuckles along the gap after I snap the last button out of its hole, over my boxer restrained hard-on. "So greedy, Cas. Want me all to yourself?" I take a deep breath, causing my abs to tighten hard as I slide my jeans down my hips.  
"You want this straight boy dick?" I slide my pants the rest of the way down, toss 'em next to me on the floor. My phone is buzzing crazily. It's Cas. I decline his call.  
"Yep, you're just proving my point. You're always wanting more than I'm offering. Just sit tight and enjoy the show, stalker." 

I slide my knuckles along my hard dick again, rub a little circle into the soft spot just under the head and suck in a breath. Even through the thin cotton that feels way too good already. I bite my lip and run my fingertips up and down my dick, picturing Cas: red, flushed, hard-on straining against his slacks, sweat dampening the back of his starched collar and curling the hair near his ears while he sits there. Phone in hand. Desperate to talk to me in that whiskey-rough voice. 

With a groan, I scratch up my thighs, rake my nails along my abs and up over my perked up nipples to center myself. The little bit of pain gets me back in control. "Yeah, bet you're just dying to give me an earful of how bad you want to see this so you can picture my dick stretching you open. Too bad." 

Reaching a hand under my waistband, I take myself in hand and let out a hiss. "Feels good, Cas. How good it'll feel in your hand you may never know." I smile into the dark. "You've got really long fingers, but I bet you can just barely wrap your hand around it." I give my dick a stroke and moan a little for show. 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you. I'm so hard Cas..." I start sliding my hand slowly up and down, keep my grip loose. My fingers roll the rim of my dick as I twist my wrist just a little on each upstroke. 

"I can just picture you glaring a hole into the monitor, as I lie here jacking myself off, not even a hundred yards away." 

Cas has texted me. _Dean, this is very inappropriate  
I can't see your face I can't tell how you feel_

"Yeah, figures you'd say that. _Now_ you're worrying about my freaking feelings?" My blood pressure spikes way up, and I'm taking it out on my dick, jacking it hard and fast.  
"What's it matter? One Winchester's as good as the next, right?" I squeeze my eyes shut, just get lost in the rhythm. If one of my eyes watered a bit, it doesn't mean I'm jealous of my kid brother, just that I'm tired and still a little drunk. I curse under my breath. Curse Cas. 

My phone buzzes and I turn my head to read another message: _I am not indulging in your histrionics Dean. No matter how badly I want to see your beautiful face when you orgasm thinking about me, knowing I'm watching you, that I want you so badly I'm being very unprofessional_

"Is that what you called that earlier, Cas? Professional? Accepting a date with my brother and icing me out? Bet you're freaking sorry you're missing out on this now, aren't you?" 

_Yes. I was wrong, so wrong, please Dean_

I'm getting close, but I wait—I put up with the chafing my dick is starting to feel where the head is rubbing the fabric of my underwear—I know it's coming. "I'll let you have a little peak, Cas." I chew on my lip. " **If** you tell me just what you're doing right now." 

_Damn you, Dean  
I'm touching myself too. I'm watching you touch yourself and am nearing orgasm_

"Atta' boy." I get my dick out of my boxers and a few strokes later my orgasm washes over me, with a string of low curses and moans. Maybe Cas's name got in there, too. I dunno. It's not that big a load but it got all over my stomach and partway up my chest, almost up to my neck with how hard I shot. 

I look blearily at the next text: 

_Very nice. It'd be much nicer if I could see it in the light, with you lying beneath me. I'd clean you with my mouth and keep going until you were hard again. Would you beg me, Dean? Would you beg me nicely to do completely filthy things to you with my mouth?_

I'm still a little sex-flushed, but more I'm embarrassed—I wasn't even thinking about—with what totally wasn't an unmanly yelp, I drag my boxers back up over my junk and then turn the clock back so it faces the door. It is fucking _impossible_ to one-up this guy. I take off my shirt and use it to clean up my mess. "Don't—don't think I've forgotten you're two-timing my brother. You are _on notice_ , Cas!" My voice is high and shrill like an indignant teenager, completely ridiculous. I pull my blanket up to my chest; ball up the shirt and toss it near the hamper. 

Another text: _Are you saying you wish to "make time" with me?_

I groan and roll onto my side. This guy and his goddamn dad jokes. It blows my mind that the guy who sent me that text an the previous sext are the same freaking person. Feeling nice and loose-limbed now, I drift off again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was that, guys? You have no idea how awkward it is trying to format one-way sexting until you do it!


	20. Sunday: early morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam keeps to his morning routine -- to Dean's great annoyance.

BEEP BEEP BEEP 

"The fuck?" My alarm is going off. Sam busts into my room and slaps it off. 

"What the hell, Sam, what kind of sadist sets an alarm on a freaking Sunday?" Creaking another bleary eye open, I take in his dumb dopey chipper face. 

"Gotta keep up my routine, Dean! No slacking just 'cause I'm on vacation. Figured you'd rather keep me company on my run." 

"You figured wrong." I clutch a pillow to my face and groan. "I got hockey later." 

Sam hums thoughtfully. "That's pretty good exercise, but I'm used to running. C'mon, up you get." 

"Please tell me there's coffee," I whine, slowly making my way to the edge of the bed. Yeah, I'm a bit hungover. 

"There sure is," Sam grins, "outside, everywhere you look." 

"You are a bastard and no freaking brother of mine," I groan, lurching to my feet and stumbling across the room. Sam just smirks like the little bitch he is at my shambling. Rooting through my drawers, I snag a pair of sweats in short order and put them on. With a jaw-cracking yawn, I grab a shirt and tug it on, too. "Don't you got better shit to do? I'm up already." 

"Just making sure. It's not like you've never stumbled straight back to bed and fell asleep with your shoes on before." 

I groan, "You do that one time—" 

Sam coughs, "five." 

"—And you never live it down." 

"Well, if we're making a greatest hits list of shit you'll never live down, we'll be here all day." 

I wave him off. "Get out, your dumb smug moose face is blocking the damn door." 

"Fine, fine." 

We walk to the living room and yep, can't smell any coffee. That utter tool. "Seriously Sam? No coffee?" 

Sam rolls his eyes. "It'd just make you have to stop midway through. Let's get going." 

"Sadist. Torturer." I mutter under my breath as I walk over and get into my sneakers. I freeze and blink. Little purple pink and blue stripes—glittering stripes—are painted up the sides. "For crying out loud," I moan, putting my head in my hands. 

"What?" 

"Another one of Crowley's little presents. Fucker's girlied up my kicks." I model the shoe and Sam barely contains his laughter. "Dammit Sammy, we gotta stop this sick bastard!" 

"Uh-huh. Yep. Guy who likes playing pretty princess dress-up, totally strikes fear into the hearts of men." 

I give Sam a pained look. "C'mon dude. What about all the research you did yesterday?" 

"He's mostly a smuggler, Dean. To be honest I'm not sure why he's spending so much time on you, other than it's kind of hilarious." I scowl at Sam. He looks slightly contrite. "You know, just a smidge." 

"Bitch." 

"Jerk." 

I clear my throat. "Now that I've had my daily dose of humiliation, let's get this over with already." 

"OK." We head out. 

Sunday's not as disgustingly nice as Saturday was; it's slightly overcast and I can't tell if the clouds will burn off or turn into rain later. The slight mistiness feels good on my skin and as we start jogging up the small rise outside my place; I'm pleased to note my leg and side feel pretty much better. 

We pick up steam as the hill levels off and my thoughts stray to Cas in his running shorts. A small pang of disappointment hits me as I realize there's no way we'd cross paths today. Dude's well asleep by now. 

I steer Sam towards the park for the lack of a better destination. Picking up the pace further, I work at keeping up with Sam's stupid long legs and feel a stitch forming in my side that reminds me why I hate running. By the time we get to the path for joggers, some torturous minutes later, my freaking lungs are on fire. Sam gets further and further ahead of me. 

"Slow down," I gasp, slowing down to what can barely be called a jog. 

"Power through, Dean! You can do it!" 

"N-no. Can't." 

"Yes you can!" 

I'm wheezing at a fast walk; Sam's slowed a bit but he's still yards ahead. "Don't quit your job, you suck as a motivational speaker." I stop and pant, hands on my knees. "Ugh." 

Sam jogs in place. "Sheesh, you're not that old." 

"Desk job, Sammy." 

"Alright, enough. C'mon, keep going." 

Pant pant. Sharp pain in my side has eased off. "O...K." 

We do a lap around the park at a decent pace, then another at a brisk walk to cool down before heading back to the house. 

After drinking a lot of water, I flop back into bed with my shoes on and pass back out.


	21. Sunday: late morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hockey, sibling rivalry, and terrible disguses are afoot!

My alarm goes off and I slam my hand down on it, hitting the snooze button. Godforsaken little brothers will be the death of me. I snuggle up into the bunched up blankets around my pillow and groan. 

Sammy sticks his head in. "C'mon Dean, thought it was time to slap some sticks!" 

"Already got a frigging alarm clock, Sammy, get the hell out of of here." 

"OK, OK." 

I hear some clattering and a couple minutes later the heavenly aroma of fresh-brewed coffee teases my nostrils. "Mmm— well now I have to get up." Yawning, I scrub at my eyes and blink rapidly until the room comes into focus. I swing my feet down over the side, get up, and change into some fresh clothes. Yeah, OK, kinda' pointless 'cause I'm just gonna' get sweaty again, but I'd rather not stink up my car more than necessary. I head to the kitchen. 

"Freaking finally," I mutter, grabbing a coffee mug. I wait behind Sam, tapping my fingers on the handle as I wait for him to finish pouring. I swear he's going slowly as possible just to screw with me. He moves off and I fix up my coffee. Sam settles back at the kitchen table, laptop in front of him. 

"So..." I stir my drink, spoon clinking the mug's insides, "you never said, did you make any headway on figuring Crowley stuff out last night?" 

Sam grins, all doofy golden retriever. "Yep. sure did. Think I've narrowed it down to three possible places and have a good idea what he's up to." 

I nearly drop the mug. "Holy shit! Awesome!" I blink and take a long swallow of coffee. "I mean, phssht, Sammy, only down to three? That's totally useless." Sam's grin lets me know he's onto my b.s., and I feel a swell of pride for my little brother. "So, what is it Crowley's up to?" 

"Best I can figure, he's stealing electronics to smuggle out of the country for illegal weapons construction." 

I frown. "Sounds like some pretty specialized parts." 

"You'd be surprised. A lot of stuff like GPS's can be broken down for components." 

"Huh. So you gonna let the long pervy arm of the law in on this circle jerk?" 

"Maaaaybe. I make no promises about what may be revealed under duress." Sam's grin turns sly and his eyes dance up over the rim of his mug. 

"Classy, Sam. Real classy. You'd like that, you frickin' psycho." 

Sammy puts his mug down with a clink as I just hold onto mine. "Not everyone's as repressed as you are, Dean. In fact, most people—" 

"Shaddap," I scowl down into my coffee. "You're— tainted; all that time in San Fernando's poisoned your brain for what normal people are like." 

Sam snorts. "Whatever, jerk." 

"Bitch." I grin at him and finish off my drink. I continue speaking with my back turned, as I pause at the sink.  
"You don't— you don't really think Cas would take things that far on the first date, do you?" 

A thoughtful hum is what I get in response. "Well, he could be a gentleman, given he used to be a priest, but it seems unlikely. He's a cop, so I bet he gets his rocks off abusing his power." 

The mental image that inspires makes my dick perk straight the fuck up, until I remember it's Sammy who's got a date, not me. "So...Sunday morning stick-slappin'. Let's do this." 

Sam rolls his eyes at me. "They have skate rentals at the rink still?" 

"Yep, you bet. Sure we can find somethin' for even your enormous clown feet." I scrounge up my duffel full of hockey stuff (ignoring the rainbow maple-leaf stickers Crowley put on there) when I hear the whirring of a really low flying plane. "The hell?" 

I look out the window, look back at Sam; we exchange a look and bolt outside, gear forgotten. 

Sam gulps beside me in disbelief. "A sky-writer?" 

"A freaking sky-writer!" 

S A M is spelled out in hundred foot high letters in the crisp blue of the autumn morning sky. As we watch in baffled amazement, the plane makes another swoop, going into a dive before coming back up in a tight loop. S AM becomes SPAM. 

I scrub a hand down my jaw. "Unbelievable. How freaking ridiculous." 

Sam and I grin at each-other. "Yeah, real intimidating stalker you got there, Dean." 

I roll my eyes and head back inside to grab my crap. "All this and Monty Python too," I mumble. 

"C'mon, let's go."  
  
***  
  


Sam would've been a great goalie with his freakishly long limbs, but since he doesn't have the pads for it, I stick him in centre-forward. He and Gabriel grin at each-other from opposite sides of the blue line while I watch from the stands. I'd taken a bad turn on my ankle while trying to block a shot, and then later gotten that same ankle accidentally hooked out from under me while Jo and I fought over the puck and went sprawling. 

So yeah, I'm taking ten, sipping on crappy hot chocolate and watching Sam and Gabe get along like a house on fire. There was just something between them that clicked, and it was gave me some stupid warm and fuzzy feelings to watch my best friend and best work friend getting along. I think I understand a little better now why he was so eager to introduce me to his brother. 

I can't wait to needle Gabriel about what he was doing last night; the details of his hookups are always as salacious as they are tawdry. 

My cheeks flame a little and it's not just the draughty rink. I did something pretty dirty last night myself, in all meanings of the word. Cas.... I sure gave him an eyeful and an earful. Well, he chose to keep watching, right? Just like he'd chosen to jack himself off at the same time and tell me about it. It's gonna be tough, keeping a straight face while he comes a-courtin' my little brother. Well, it's not like I don't get it. It's Sam: he's a pretty damn great kid. Looks and brains, heart of gold. My best friend in the world. And a damn porn-star. And not in the closet, like I apparently am. None of my issues or bullshit. I snort and huff a laugh into my hot chocolate. I'm sure Sam's gonna' have a field day, pelting Cas with questions about priesthood and police work in his fanatical zeal for " _Accuracy and detail—authenticity, Dean, that's what sells!_ " I sip my hot chocolate and watch the game; black's really giving it to white, boy howdy. 

I startle and almost drop my cup as a hand claps me on the shoulder. 

"Nice, isn't it, when family gets along? Fixing on bush-whacking through the Novak family tree entire, you reckon?" The stranger has long blonde hair, which is pretty obviously a wig. He's wearing blocky black frame glasses and flannel. I back away slowly, clutching my cup and sliding out from under the hand. 

"What do you know, and who the hell are you, Garth from freaking Wayne's world?" 

"For now." He flashes me a tight-lipped smile. My heart beats rapidly in my chest. 

"Crowley," I hiss. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't scream my head off, right here and now?" 

He brings both hands up in a "so-sue-me, I'm harmless" gesture which I totally don't buy.  
"I'm merely a passing hockey enthusiast, making an observation. It's been such fun tormenting you, Dean... and last night? Wonderful show, great performance." He gives me golf claps and I look down, ears burning. Oh, blackmail. Of course. 

"Wasn't meant for you," I grit out. 

"Nonetheless, much enjoyed. Quite jolly and droll, all told. Oh you're like a worm on a hook, it's delightfully pathetic." 

"Whatever. What do you want? What do you _really_ want?" 

"What I really, really want? A-zig-a-zag-ah." I look up in disbelief as Crowley chuckles. "Oh Dean. Just be patient until nine pm, won't you? I already made your brother's name disappear, who knows what other tricks I've up my sleeve?" He wiggles his eyebrows at me and lifts his hand in a facetious wave. "Toodles." 

I watch him walk off in stunned silence for a moment before pelting over to my bag to get out my phone. "Cas, Crowley was just here!" I type out, but something makes me hesitate before hitting send. Crowley had seen or heard everything. The bugs on my house? And my cell... they are compromised. Crowley's just watching us run around like rats in a freaking maze. Awesome. I throw my hot chocolate in the trash and scrub a hand down my jaw. Well, what freaking now? 

I glance back at the rink and Sam's skating along, wheeling by with his stick raised high in victory. Crap. Looks like the game's nearly over. 

Clenching my jaw, I pound my helmet back on, strap in and head back out onto the ice. Gabriel takes the bench and I take his place. The puck drops and I slam into Sam, growling as we wrestle for the puck. 

"Whoa, what's got into you?" 

"Nothin', Samantha. Don't you need to crimp your hair and squeeze into some hot pants for your date?" 

Sam rolls his eyes and shoves me back while Jo circles around and tries to sneak off with the puck. I'm onto her shit though. I manage a break away, slapping the puck over to Garth just in time for beauty and the beast to freaking dog pile me. My ankle complains, I wobble, and then we're all going down after I hit the backboard chin first. 

It's a confused mess for awhile. Jo recovers first, and then Sam disentangles his freaky octopus self and tries to help me up. I curse and nearly go down again, but Sam braces himself and gets me the rest of the way, one arm under my shoulders.  


"Dammit, Sam! You, you freaking moose!" 

"That's enough for one day, you're going all passive-aggressive on me." Sam pats me fondly and I scowl in response. I keep silent as Sam helps me to the change room. We sit and I start unlacing my skates with numb fingers. I can't really tell Sam about what just happened with Crowley without telling him about last night. I really, really don't want to tell him about last night. 

"I think I saw Crowley in disguise again."


	22. Sunday: afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean sulks and homoerotic showers at the YMCA!

Sam looks down, pausing with his shirt half-off to look at me. "You sure? If it only looked like Crowley in disguise maybe you're just being paranoid?" 

I clench my jaw. "Oh I'm pretty damn sure it was him. Looks like our protective detail isn't worth the tax dollars." 

"Did you tell Cas?" 

"He's catching z's for all I know. What good would it really do now?" 

Sam sighs and continues changing while I sit there and stare at the floor for a minute. 

Gabriel comes in, all smiles until he catches sight of my face. "Whoa! Why so glum, chum?" 

"I dunno. what do you think?" I stand up and haul all my shirts off together. 

Gabriel chuckles. "Trying to distract me with your masculine wiles, eh?" I blink over at him. "Newsflash buddy, you're family that ain't gonna work." 

"Whatever." I strip everything else off, grab my shirt and head to the showers bare-ass naked, swaggering a bit. 

The pipes rattle once I turn the taps on, and I press my face to the cold tile wile the steam swirls up around me. The hot water isn't exactly merciful on my bum ankle, but I also really don't care. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone else within the shower room. A big blonde viking of a man. Frowning, I slowly turn my head. And yeah, it was initially hard to tell, but it's the cook from the alley a couple nights ago. Jesus, when was the last time I had a spank session that didn't make me feel terrible? I'm grateful the steam is giving me a reason to be flushed. My traitorous dick twitches in interest as I take in his solid muscles. 

A low amused chuckle makes my head snap up. "Hey brother, see something you like?" the fucker winks at me and my heart stutters in my chest. 

"Uh, sorry man. sorry." I grab the soap and hold it in front of my junk. "Just thought I uh, recognized you from somewhere." 

"No kidding." He turns on the shower next to me and rakes his eyes from my chest to my face. "And where might that be?" 

What is it with this guy? I bite my lip and look away. "You um, you work at Funky Winkerbean's, right? From there." I can't meet his eyes, so I start soaping up and wonder what's taking everyone else so long to get here. 

The guy chuckles again, and it's a really nice, warm sound. 

"You must be Gabriel's friend." 

"Yeah," I mumble, soaping up the back of my neck. 

"Can I get your back for you, brother?" 

"What is this, the freaking YMCA?" I snap back, ears burning. 

Another one of those rumbly chuckles, like a big cat. "As a matter of fact...." 

"Yeah, yeah." Maybe though... oh geez, this is one of those dumbest ideas I've had in awhile. A+, gold star, S-grade dumb-assery. I put my head under the spray and then dollop some shampoo on my hands. Bite my lip and scrub through my hair. The viking is silent as he goes about his business. It's just the two of us and the pounding spray. I blink water out of my eyes and turn to face him, finding my voice. "Listen, uh..." 

"Benny," he fills me in with a small flash of teeth. 

"I'm Dean. And I'm well, I'm really new to this." 

"What, brother? Vaguely homoerotic showers at the YMCA?" 

Despite myself, I laugh, and some of the tension the hot water couldn't dissolve leaves me. "Yeah. That, and other things." 

"Well Dean, I'm sure you don't need me to tell you, but you are one fine-looking man. Enough to make even a usually sensible sort like myself overlook a bit of voyeurism and public indecency." His eyes are fucking twinkling, getting all crinkly at the corners, and my heart pounds again. I guess meeting Cas was some kind of gay flood-gate? My stare drops from his laughing eyes and observes the course the water takes down his solid but slightly padded chest. He coughs and I snap my eyes back up before they go indecently lower. 

"I um, would you like to go out? This afternoon? I just um, I have to keep an eye on my brother and it'd be even more awkward without a uh, d-date to keep me company." 

Benny huffs and barks out a laugh. "Brother, you sound more like a jealous lover than any other darn thing right now. But alright, I'll bite. Find me before you go and we'll exchange numbers, alright?" 

This guy, he just, sees right through me, and he's so warm... well, plus he's friends with Gabe. If nothing else. It feels like we could be really good friends. "O-ok, Benny. I'll come find you, promise." 

He shoots me another grin. "Offer of a back wash's still open. You look like the kind of man don't let anyone take care of him, if you'll pardon my forwardness." 

I think about it, reeling a little that he gets me so well already. I think about those big hands, covering me, rubbing soap into my shoulder blades, one hand nearly covering my whole shoulder. I think about how we're of a height, that if I turned my head, his mouth would be right there. His lips pressing to the back of my neck—uh-oh. I rinse out the soap and crank the water to cold, flinching and hissing. I grin up at him through chattering teeth. "M-maybe l-later. Rest of my team'll be here in a sec." 

Benny looks amused. "Alright, cher. See you in a few." He resumes showering and I only sneak a couple of looks at his powerfully built ass as I dart out, wrapping a towel around my waist. 

I throw the doors open and barge into the changing area. Sam and Gabe are both half-undressed and look up guiltily. The hell? "Hey guys. What's taking you so damn long?" 

Sam flushes. "Gabe was uh, giving me some advice on how to date his brother." 

Gabe winks at me. "Yeah, I was showing him just what Cassie likes." 

"Gross. Jesus, are both of you completely incapable of keeping it in your damn pants for five minutes?" 

Sam blushes deeply and stares at the floor. Funny, he doesn't look like he's been messing around. Gabe just smirks at me some more before returning to getting out of his gear. I march over and snap my fingers a couple of times in front of my brother's face. "Sammy! Burning daylight!" He nods and continues stripping down. "Hey asshole." I look at Gabe. 

He rolls his eyes. "Yes?" 

"You got a friend named Benny, yea tall, works at the punk bar?" 

He straightens up, puts a towel over his shoulder. "Yeah, I do. Real easy-going guy. Heart a' gold. What makes you ask?" 

"Oh yeah." I swallow and lick my lips, looking away. "I've run into him a couple of times now. Was just wondering, you know, if he's an OK guy." I rub at my wet hair with my towel, face a little hot. 

Gabe raises an eyebrow, smirking. "Uh-huh. Would one of those times have been in the shower just now?" 

I scowl and meet his gaze, jaw clenched tight. "Yeah. And?" 

Sam's giving me this incredulous look. "Dean—" 

"What, I can't make new friends? You both suck." I finish hauling my clothes on and stalk out the door without a backward glance. I'm not gonna sulk, absolutely not. I just grab another hot chocolate out of the vending machine and wait for everyone to file out. Benny's tow-head emerges first and he waves hello with a sardonic grin. 

"So what's this I hear about you being sweet on Gabe's little brother?" 

I blow on my hot chocolate and glare at it as he closes the space between us. "Did you hear about him being sweet on **my** little brother, too?" 

Benny laughs and sits beside me. "That's a real soap opera you've got on your hands, friend." 

I snort and roll the cup between my palms. "Yeah, gays of our lives. Not that I'm, you know. That." A warm meaty hand thumps me on the shoulder; I nearly fumble my cup. 

"Don't you worry none, brother." I turn my head to look at him. "Your secret's safe with me, cher." He winks and I cough before taking a long swallow of terrible hot chocolate. I lower the cup and swallow again before putting a hand on Benny's knee. 

"You're—you're a good guy. I um," I lick my lips and watch his pupils dilate as he tracks the movement. "I like, _like_ you, like you. I don't really know what the hell I'm doing, though, and as you've probably figured out by now, I basically invited you along to co-stalk my little brother while he's on a date with a pushy-ass cop I'm not sure I trust. So yeah. That's... yeah." I gulp down my hot chocolate and Benny's tracking the bob of my Adam's apple as I tip up the cup. I'm red all over and narrowly not fidgeting like a virgin on prom night. 

"Dinner _and_ a show, is that what you're shilling, Dean?" 

"A-yep." I stare down at my shoes. 

"What the hell. Live theatre." I look up at his grin and smile back. 

"Don't go getting too stereotypical on me, pal." 

"You bet." 

We exchange numbers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some MAJOR progress the past couple of weeks! I'm at 90-95% done, guys! I'm hoping to get this finished before the new year!


	23. Sunday: early evening

I've got way too much time to think before the date happens; a couple of hours at best. I think about checking my work e-mails, but fuck it, it's Sunday. Sam and I ride home in companionable silence; I'm just way too worn out to do anything other than focus on driving. 

"I'm gonna hole up in my room awhile, m'kay? Maybe take a nap." The rush of adrenaline from seeing Crowley again has largely worn off, but there's like, a phantom pain in my gut and my lungs feel squeezed tight. 

Sam just mumbles something I don't pay much attention to and a couple minutes later I'm face down in my pillow, clutching it tight, arms shaking. I'm not so scared of Crowley and what he represents anymore, but my body is letting me know that yeah, recent events were pretty nerve-wracking. He'd gotten so close to Sam, practically in the same damn room, and no one had known but me. No one'd been able to do a damn thing to stop it. 

I pull my phone out of my pocket and roll over, stare at the ceiling. Cas... I really should tell him. I shake all over and my breathing's gone fucky. He'd helped, last time—maybe—but no, he's going on a date with my little brother, who's so enlightened, liberal, and sure of himself that he can't throw a rock without finding someone drawn to him. 

For all my bluster and snappy remarks, I really envy Sam and how people just open to him like flowers in the freaking sun. Everything just comes so damn easily to him. People rarely give a damn about how I feel and actually that's how I like it, all impenetrable iron hiding this stupid gooey middle. Scowling, I tap out a message to Cas. It takes a bit with shaky fingers. _Crowley came and found me today_

A couple of minutes later (Cas was probably woken up by my text) the reply comes in the form of a phone call. 

"Dean? Are you alright? Is Sam?" 

"Yeah, we're just peachy." A nervous laugh escapes my throat. 

"Thank God. Where was it you saw him?" 

"At the YMCA. He was in a really cheesy disguise." 

Cas sighs, it sounds frustrated. "The budget to follow you both 24-7 is lacking. A car on your apartment is regrettably the most we have." 

"Sure as hell ain't making me feel any safer. Sam tell you about his little sky-writing stunt?" 

"Yes. We followed up on that lead as there are only a couple of people presently offering that service. We **did** find the pilot, but all he had to say on the subject was it was a man with a British accent who paid cash." 

I thump my head against the pillow a few times, still shaking a little. "Great. Just freaking great." 

"We're doing all we can." 

"Awesome." I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. 

"Dean, are you really alright?" 

"What do you think?" 

"I think you are likely tired and frightened." 

I clench my jaw and scrub a hand through my hair. "You're not wrong." 

"I'm aware it would be in-appropriate to offer aid as I did before. Perhaps you should seek succor from your brother." 

"Dude, **no**. That's fucked up. I can't let my baby brother see me messed up. Ask him to hug it out like we both grew vaginas overnight!" 

"Just a suggestion. Nothing more." 

Sam and I had done a bit of hugging when in court-mandated family counseling after I got out of jail. But that'd been years ago. "Speaking of the friendly giant, where're you two headed?" 

"A quaint tavern known as the Roadhouse." 

"Pfft, you're gonna take my salad-loving little bro to a borderline biker bar?" 

"I am given to understand Sam has certain proclivities regarding men in leather." 

"Ahh, gross!" 

"Putting that aside, many officers visit in their downtime." 

"That's smart." I check my clock." Got another five hours before Crowley makes his move. Doesn't hurt to be cautious." 

"No. I must prepare. Good day." Cas hangs up abruptly, and I stare at the phone for a moment. 

"And I say to you, good day!" I mutter, a bit from that 70s show coming to mind. 

Well I guess Cas has to rally the troops or whatever. I wonder how much needling he's gonna get for going on a date while surrounded by coworkers? it being with a _male_ pornstar... just so many added layers of awkward. I can't help but chuckle, and I realize my chest feels looser; my breathing's evened out again and the shaking's mostly stopped. I text Benny before I catch a few z's, then set an alarm and pass out.  
  


  
***

  


When I come to, it's a knock on the door that makes me swing my feet out of bed and rub at my eyes. 

"Whu?" I leave my room and pad through the kitchen. 

Sam's nowhere in sight, but I can hear the shower running. "The hell?" 

The knock comes again. I cross the small distance to the door, yell, "Coming!" I pull open the door and am greeted by a startled pair of deep blue eyes. "Heya' Cas." I lean against the door jamb, yawn, and scratch at the back of my neck, giving him the once-over on the down low. 

He's wearing a pair of skinny jeans that announce to the world that he hangs to the left, a muscle tank, and a light tan jacket with a ridiculous amount of pockets that's probably mostly there to conceal that he's carrying. A messenger bag with a Gold's gym logo hangs off one shoulder. It's not a look I would've pegged him for, but yeah. My mouth's gone dry and he's probably onto me. 

I look up at his face and catch him staring with dilated pupils. "A bit early, aintcha'?" 

Cas's mouth snaps shut. "Yes. Apologies." his eyes stop raking over my thighs and he meets my gaze. "I just wanted to check that the perimeter was secure before we left. And I was worried about you." 

"Aww shucks, Cas, I'm not some delicate hot-house flower." Standing aside, I usher him in. "C'mon in." 

I can feel his eyes on my ass and it makes my hair stand on end. 

"Where's Sam?" 

"Shower. Takes forever to wash his stupid girly hair. Make yourself at home." I go behind him to lock the door. He doesn't move and it's really awkward. When I turn around from locking up, I glance down and yep, he's having some movement on the junk front. His hand cups my face. 

"Dean—" 

I freeze, back going rigid. " _Don't_. You're a real class act, anyone ever tell you that?" 

His eyes are shiny and huge. "It's not what you think—" 

"Oh really? 'Cause what I _think_ it looks like is you want to get nice and inappropriate with me right before you attempt to court my little brother." 

He surges forward and kisses me. His hands are in my hair and he tastes and smells _so fucking good_. I only last a second before kissing back. It's all plush lips, a little rasp of stubble at my jaw, and Cas is cupping my ass and grinding as he presses me into the door. 

"Dean," he growls, and my dick, which has decidedly risen to the occasion, spazzes a little. "You are _not_ one to talk about propriety." 

"What do you want," I gasp. "I'm only human." 

"The things you do to me are surely the work of the devil," Cas rumbles as he attacks my neck with his teeth. His hands feel so goddamn good kneading my ass, and he manhandles me, lining us up so our hard dicks rub together through thin fabric. 

"You sure as hell ain't no angel," I mutter, then hiss as he nips right under my jaw. My hands find their way under his shirt and I rub up the sides of his feverish skin. 

" _Shut up_ ," he growls into my neck, sucking right over my pulse like a freaking vampire. 

"Cas, Cas I'm gonna—" I'm gonna come in my boxers like a frigging teenager if he doesn't stop. He kisses me fiercely, tongue fucking into my mouth, and all I can do is pant and try to keep up. 

It's strangely silent in the apartment and a moment later, it clicks. The shower's shut off.


	24. Sunday: evening

Through a herculean effort of will, I push at Cas's chest.

"Stop. Christ Cas, _stop_."

"Dean—"

"Stop. _Sam_."

Castiel withdraws, flushed, panting, lips swollen from both of us biting on them. His hair is sticking up even more than usual, and it's a really really good look on him. He is just a ridiculously good-looking specimen of human.

"Sam," he murmurs, like it's a foreign word he's tasting for the first time.

"Yeah." I struggle out of his grasp, pushing past him. I look over my shoulder at him and throw him a wink. "Gonna do a repeat perfomance of last night, but you ain't gonna get to watch this time." Cas's fingers twitch, his hands making an aborted gesture to grab me again.

" _Dean_ ," he groans.

"Tidy yourself up. I'll kick your ass if you hurt my brother."

He tilts his head and squints, lips shaping words he doesn't give voice to, and I smirk at his frustration before I head to my room.

I turn the clock-radio into the corner and then take myself in hand. I don't last long; I bite my lips until they bleed to keep quiet as I come in long stripes that get all over my shirt, hand, boxers, and shirt.

I look at the mess in dazed awe. What have I been missing out on all this time? Was this—was this because it was Cas?

He was right, too. Maybe he started it this time, but I sure as hell started it yesterday. I'm the dick here, but really it's a merry-go-round of circle-jerk.

I yank my clothes off, scrub at the mess with my shirt before wadding it up further.

Oh. Oh. _Oh fucking hell. T_ he front door, there's a camera aimed straight at it. A boulder lodges in my stomach, weighing me down like a millstone as I stand there, a hand on the wall barely keeping me upright.

Someone must've... they would've seen me and Cas getting sweaty. I swallow thickly, scrub a hand down my jaw. Is Cas gonna get fired? I like having my own guardian angel, as confusing and inappropriate as our relationship is.

Feeling numb, I scramble into some clothes. What am I gonna say? Cas put those cameras there himself. It was impossible he hadn't known. _Shit_. How do I bring this up in front of Sam? I can't.

I snatch up my phone and pause for a moment before letting out a breath, trying to center how I've been taught. It felt much more natural and effective when I had a gun in my hands at the shooting range, but even so it helps a little. My fingers barely shake at all as I tap out a text.

_Smile Cas you were on candid camera_

I hear Cas's low rumble through the door as he talks to Sam, sounding vaguely apologetic in tone, and a moment later, I get his reply.

_I know. Do not concern yourself._

_Well excuse me for finding the idea of u being fired concerning_

_Apologies. For now, trust me and relax._

_I..._

I hit cancel and pocket my phone.

I can't do that, of course. I gotta get my ass in gear; gotta meet up with Benny and tail these two; Cas is a cop, I don't doubt for an instant he'll spot us.

My heart does this weird thing I can only describe as fluttering, no matter how I scowl at the girliness of the word. I'll see Benny again. Benny with those calm blue eyes like the sea on a nice summer day and that sanguine, easy going smile that tells you he's made for laughing, despite the sadness lurking at the corners. It'll be nice, just getting to talk to him for awhile.

If nothing else, maybe it'll be good to have a friend who's not a snarky bastard. I flush a little as my brain coughs up a bunch of tired rom-com tropes, like kissing to hide each-other's faces from view and holding hands to make things look more legit.

My hands start to sweat as I pace the small space from my bed to the door, over and over. Could I do that, with another guy? In public?

Yeah—kissing Cas had been, well—yeah... sound and fury, lightning striking a bare tree in an ash-covered field, the rumble of thunder rattling a windowpane in the dead of night like a herd of pissed off horse hooves...

But PDA stuff? With another dude? I dunno. I'm just a fucking hot mess right now.

Sam's familiar knock comes at the door.

"Dean! We're headed out. Seeya later."

"Have fun!" I shout back through the door with false cheer, high and grating. I wince... and flop onto my stomach. I seriously am getting gayer by the damn day. What the hell is Sammy's secret? Just not giving a flying fuck?

I slap both sides of my face and glare up at myself in the mirror. "Come _on_ Winchester, head in the game!"

Rolling my shoulders and neck releases a series of small satisfying cracks that makes me groan a little.

"Alright, let's _do_ this!" I roll over and onto my feet, stalk towards my dresser.

Remembering some random crap Sam told me, I dress in a blue shirt and grey slacks to vanish into the background and put on a Mariners baseball cap Bobby got me forever and a day ago.

I give myself a wink I can't see due to the sunglasses and the double finger-guns. "Lookin' good, Guy Incognito." I resist the urge to pop the collar on my shirt and manfully repress the urge to think about Cas ripping it open, sending buttons flying everywhere. I turn the clock back around. When I push the door open, sure enough, Sammy and Cas are long gone.

"Coast is clear," I mutter, pulling out my phone and checking the maps app to find the Roadhouse. The place isn't super hard to find, but it's out past the outskirts of town, nearer to Tacoma. The Impala's conspicuous, but what the hell. I love my car. After quickly washing my face, I head out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit guys!! I'M BASICALLY DONE!!!!!  
> DEFINITELY EXPECT THIS FINISHED BY NEW YEAR'S! LOVE YOU ALL!


	25. Sunday: evening part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for Denny's

Remembering some random crap Sam told me, I dress in a blue shirt and grey slacks to vanish into the background and put on a Mariners baseball cap Bobby got me forever and a day ago.

I give myself a wink I can't see due to the sunglasses and the double finger-guns. "Lookin' good, guy Incognito."  
I resist the urge to pop the collar on my shirt and manfully repress the urge to think a out Cas ripping it open, sending buttons flying everywhere. I turn the clock back around.

When I push the door open, sure enough, Sammy and Cas are long gone.

"Coast is clear," I mutter, pulling out my phone and checking the maps app to find the Roadhouse. The place isn't super hard to find, but it's on the outskirts of town, nearer to Olympia. The Impala's conspicuous, but what the hell. I love my car.I wash my face and head out.

I come to a stop at the local coffeeshop, cruise by nice and slow, before coming back and rolling the window down. Tipping my chin down so he can see my eyes, I grin up over the sunglasses at Benny.  
"Hey sailor need a ride?"

His grin in return is wolfish and he lets out a low whistle. "Nice ride. May I climb aboard?"

"It's unlocked." He comes around and slides in, smelling of coffee, cinnamon, and something sharp and spicy I can't quite put my finger on. Actually, he's carrying coffee, and my heart skips a beat when I notice he's got two cups.

"For you, cher." He indicates the second cup, which stays in the little cardboard carrier he puts between us on the bench seat. He runs a hand along the leather. "Very nice. Original leather?"

"Yeah." I take a breath. "Had her since my dad passed. This cherry ride's been all mine half my life now."

Benny's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes and he pats me on the shoulder. "Rough, losing your dad so young. I know how it is."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He laughs. "We're too sober by half for this little tete-au-tete. Tell me about this place we're headed."

I flush a little. Yeah. Dead parents. Great ice-breaker, Winchester. Smooth.

"It's uh," I lick my lips, "sorta a biker bar, but apparently cops like to frequent the place."

"Interestin'. Bet you dollars to doughnuts," he grins, "there's a story there."

I smirk. "Must be some pretty tasty slop to bring in the bacon, you mean? Let's find out."

I put the car into gear to Benny's chuckle. The road unwinds before us in the companionable silence, broken only by both of us drinking our coffee. I steal a glance at him at a four way stop; he's wearing a floppy-necked sweater with cable-knit and a pair of black slacks. Seems a bit warm for the weather.

"You run cold?" I merge into the passing lane to the road out of town. In my brief glance as I shoulder check, he seems vaguely amused.

"No, brother. Gets cold at night, s'all. Pays to be prepared."

"Huh. You don't strike me as the type who spends a lot of nights alone."

"Well, that's the thing about cooking, it's awful tryin' to meet anybody. Outside a dippin' your wick in the poison well, prospects run slim when you're off at two AM."

"Oh. What? Poison well?"

"You know. Shittin' where you eat? That kinda workplace drama's for the young folk." Benny snorts.

"Roger-dodger. You're not wrong." He slants me a small smile and I return it, trying and failing, again to not think of Charlie with a blonde between her legs in an alley. A flush creeps up the back of my neck and I scowl at the highway.

"You got some firsthand experience, Dean? You look redder 'an a lobster just got thrown in a whistling pot and 'bout as pissed, too."

I chew up my lip a little and risk a glance. Well he'd freaking been there, might as well give him some context.  
"That redhead with your co-worker..." I quirk my eyebrows up and leave it there.

"You don't say. I'm guessing it wasn't an idle coincidence."

"Nope. Didn't know she was gonna, yanno, multi-task. The three of us don't go out that often. Well, I dunno, me saying yes was last minute. For all I know, she and Zelda, right? Zelda been a thing awhile."

"Dunno, brother. Didn't seem like long term commitment-type behaviour." We lapse into silence. I really don't know.

We pull up to the Roadhouse. True to the name, it kinda is in the middle of nowhere. I give the wheel a last squeeze and let out a breath before I'm undoing my seat-belt.

Benny's shooting me a concerned look. "You don't seem like you're doing this for shits and giggles."

I unlock the door. "it's a long story. Shit's gonna go down in awhile. I'll tell you all about it once we're settled." I make to get out of the car, but Benny's hand on my leg stops me.

"That sounds suspiciously like a drug deal." Shrugging out from under his hand, I get out and wait for him. His eyes meet mine across the Impala's roof.

"It's not. Promise." I shoot him a tight grin and he responds with a twitch of his lips.

"Alright, you say so."

"I do."


	26. Sunday: evening part three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come to Denny's, grab a beer

We head in. The doors are big double-wing style, and I wonder if the place is really all that old or if the owners just dig kitschy shit. I see Cas's messy brown hair sticking up over top one of the booths and curse my luck. Of course they chose a corner facing the door. In a straight line, the back exit to the alley faces Cas. 

A host comes over and I notice Benny giving me amused side-long looks. Shit. Act casual, act casual! 

"Hi! Two of your today?" 

"Uh, yep." I half-cough, half-mumble. This was a terrible idea. Benny claps me on the shoulder and his warm Cajun accent drawls, "You got it, sweetheart. Just me and my shadow." with heavy irony. Well then. Guess he's not above making a wise crack now and again. I really hope we can be friends. 

"Okay, right this way." I don't have to make any more aborted attempts at fast-talk, because we're seated at a table kitty-corner to the booth. Some drink and food menus are placed in front of us and I rub along the laminated edges before flipping it open. 

I can just barely hear Cas talking. "... you really think that's what he's planning?" 

The host says, "I'll just give you two gentleman a few minutes." I nod, skirting being rude as I strain to hear my brother's reply. 

Benny says, "Sure, darlin'. Don't you worry about us none, just take it easy." 

I nod and just barely make out Sam saying, "Not sure. He's really hard to predict. But I want to believe he left us a few clues around Dean's apartment." 

Around my apartment? He thinks that crap was pointing at something? It's as solid theory as any... my eyes have been scanning the last five lines of the drinks menu without seeing them for a couple minutes now. I lick my lips and look up at Benny, who's reading the menu with a bemused smile. He looks up at me. 

"This menu is straight outta the 70s. I'm sure it was considered haute cuisine in... '67." 

I give him a shit-eating grin. "If I order a chocolate malt, will you wrestle me for the cherry?" 

Benny's eyes sparkle. "With my tongue, you mean?" 

My jaw goes slack and I sputter a bit. Gay chicken is _really_ not my forte. I bet **Sam** could beat me at it. Cheeks flaming, I look down. "What's your poison?" 

Benny accepts the subject change with grace. "PBR, I reckon." He scratches at a little blonde tuft on the end of his chin. I'm suddenly curious about what that would feel like under my thumb, as I held his chin, and—I swallow. Boy, am I thirsty. 

"Sure, that was considered fancy-ass beer in '67." I grin. 

"Ain't nothin' fancy about PBR and won't never be, cher." He snorts. 

"You tryin' to say you ain't the kinda guy who can be wined and dined?" 

"Depends on whose dime. Could be." He smiles, nice even teeth and a flash of pink tongue as he licks his lips. 

Our waitress comes. "Hi, I'm Sheryl. I'll be looking after you gents. What can I get you tonight? 

"PBR and Labatt's," I say, grateful for the temporary distraction. 

Sam's voice floats over. "I think he's building up to some kind of gesture. I can't figure—" his voice fades. Huh. What kind of gesture? Why did Sam feel he couldn't share with the class on this one? 

Plus, they're talking shop, not getting to know you type questions. A little spark of hope flares in my chest. Were they actually not on a date? I crane my neck around, trying to catch a glimpse of Sam's face, despite what a terrible idea it is. He looks calm, just concerned, wi-fi forehead wrinkled with it. 

Our beers arrive and I settle back into my seat. 

"So, what can I get for you?" 

"Cheeseburger, extra onions." 

Benny hides a grin. 

Raising an eyebrow, I throw him a questioning look. "What?" 

"Never you mind." 

"Gum exists." 

"Riiight..." 

The server watches us, lips twitching with amusement. 

"Hot wings," Benny says. 

"OK, won't be long at all." Sheryl flashes a grin and strides off. 

"Thought you'd get tired of eating that kinda stuff." 

"Ehh... hard to mess up wings. I like to get a bit saucy, now and again." 

I snicker, raise my beer to him and take a couple pulls from the bottle. 

We drink our beers in companionable silence and I take a minute to look around the place. It's all dark wooden paneling and rough wooden floors, the kind of place people throw peanut shells straight on the ground. I catch sight of a few as I look harder, even. 

It would feel cavernous in here, if it weren't for the multitude of neon lit beer signs and random nick-knacks cluttering long rows of shelves with pictures from random roadside attractions on the walls. The biggest ball of yarn, bale of straw, rocking chair, etc., in America have photos up. 

I realize that all that's coffee's gone straight to my bladder. Crap. 

Putting down my half-empty Labatt's, I flash Benny a grin. "No roofie-ing this while I'm gone. I gotta hit the little boy's room." 

Benny raises an eyebrow but smiles back. "Not me, no." 

I push up and hit the head, skirting around the other way in an attempt to not be spotted by Cas. I don't know how he's gonna miss seeing me on the way back. This was a terrible idea. How would it go down if he caught me? 

My heart beats fast, and I flash back to Cas on me in the parking lot and up against my door. Well, I'm already here, so... I go about my business and then wash my hands, observing my reflection. So. I made out with a dude and I'm on a date with another one. 

I don't really feel different. It doesn't feel like— _the world's not going to end, if you act on this attraction, Dean_ —the end of the world. Despite the rainbows on my sneakers. 

The door opens behind me and I feel the hair on the back of my neck prickle. 

I look up and sure enough, it's Cas. 

_Crap_.


	27. Sunday: evening part four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas is inappropriate. AGAIN.

There's the suggestion of a laugh sketched at the corners of Cas's eyes and mouth; he looks completely unsurprised.  
"Hello, Dean." 

"Fancy meeting you here." With a nervous chuckle, I reach for the paper towel dispenser. I wipe my hands dry, and before I can take another breath, Cas is on me, hands on my hips, lips at my neck. Shuddering, I arch into his touch like a damn cat in heat. 

"Dean..." He swirls his tongue up and around the exposed bones of my spine and I make some kind of noise; I'm achingly, violently hard. 

"You gotta—" Cas bites down between my neck and shoulder; I groan in response. "You gotta stop doing this, Cas." 

He backs up, catches my eyes in the mirror. "Make me." His absurdly long tongue traces the shell of my ear and his hand cups my junk, making me gasp. "Tell me you don't want this." 

I can't. I bite down on my lips and look away. He lets go only to turn me to face him squarely. 

"Tell me, Dean." He cradles my jaw and I rip my gaze away from the bathroom tile at the painful earnestness of it. "Tell me," he swallows, stare unwavering, "this doesn't feel right. This dance we've been doing around each-other—it doesn't end with us together. Whole, in a way neither of us has ever been." 

I swallow thickly. My voice cracks. "I can't.  
"Nothing, and I mean _nothing_ has ever felt more right, Cas." 

My hands are in his hair and our mouths are mashing together, lips and tongues a slow fury like waves against a break-water. I'm dizzy, light-headed; drowning in the relentless pull his body affects on mine; the way who he is, his utter devotion and intensity steals my air. 

We're rubbing against each-other, and somehow we've ended up in a stall, the cold wall hard on my back. 

"You are **mine** ," Castiel growls. "I am going to mark you and then suck your brains out through your dick." I gasp, and Cas chases it with his mouth, panting hot against me while his hands go for my belt. He's adorably un-coordinated in his heated fumbling and the spark of fond amusement snaps me back to myself. Benny and Sam are both waiting outside, what the hell are we doing? 

"Cas, no." I put my hands over his, and he gives me a look so sad and scared my heart nearly breaks. 

"Not here," I mutter. "You... you deserve better, Cas." I squeeze his hands and bite my lip, blushing a little. He looks at me, eyes wide and dark, surprise and maybe well, awe—warring on his features.  
"Besides..." I clear my throat. "Who's watching Sam?" 

Cas licks his lips, opens his mouth, shuts it, swallows and tries again. "A few of my co-workers, off duty, and the bartender... but if for any reason Sam is sent outside—" 

The shrill clanging of a fire alarm breaks in. 

I burst out from the stall, then pelt out to the bar. "Sam!" Benny's headed out the door, but I don't see my brother. 

"SAM!" I shove people aside, frantically scrambling into the muggy evening air. I sweep the parking lot then jog around the building. Cas is hot on my heels, talking fast into his radio. 

My brother is gone. "FUCK!"


	28. Sunday: evening part 5

As I scan the parking lot frantically, I get a text message from an unfamiliar number. I almost don't check it, but after all there's only one person it could possibly be. 

_Come alone, put on the blindfold I've left in your car. After that, I will return your brother and you can make a choice. No harm done, if you only come._

Followed by an address. 

What is this sick joke? I'm supposed to trust this bastard's word? What guarantee do I have that that slimy son of a bitch will do what he says? I call the number the text message was sent from before I can second-guess myself. 

"Dean. All you have to do for me is this one tiny, minuscule favour, and then I'll be out of your overly-gelled hair," Crowley's voice comes over the line. 

"What?" 

"Be at the address I've given you at 8:50 pm." 

"Or what?" 

"You've seen or what. I can get to you whenever I wish. Just this one thing, and I'm vanished as if I were never here." 

"Guess I ain't got a choice." 

"Oh, there's _always_ a choice, darling. Do make the right one this time, would you? There's a good boy." 

"I'll play ball. Just don't expect me to play dead, too." 

"It's nice to see you branching out, by the way. Testing the waters, as it were." 

My cheeks burn. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" 

"Oh I think you know. Delightful teddy bear you've out there, positively scrumptious. Now, if you'll excuse me—" 

_CLICK_.  
  


***

  


Benny's taking a slow pull from his PBR, leaning against the brick by the roadhouse's entrance. "Dean, what's wrong? I'm sure it was just a prank." 

"Yeah, you don't know how right you are. My little brother's gone missing." 

"Well shit, sugar." 

Cas comes to my side, phone still in hand. "I put a tracker on Sam's belt... but Crowley may be expecting that." 

Benny raises his can in greeting. "This must be the date. I'm Benny, Dean's date." He offers his hand to shake, which Cas ignores. 

"I must be going. I have to follow Sam as long as I can—" 

"Uh yeah, listen." I lick my lips. "Crowley told me to show up someplace alone. He said nothing bad would happen... and I, I dunno. I guess I believe him. I'll check out that angle while you try to find Sam. Deal?" 

"Dean, you are being preposterous. At least, let me get you a wire." 

"Shut up, Cas. Sam vanished on your damn watch. I'll play nice, but I'm doing it my way. You talk down to me again—" 

Cas holds up a hand. "Apologies. Of course. My team is nearby, they will kit you up accordingly. If you'll excuse me." With the barest wave, Cas turns his back and strides off, picking his way toward a dodge charger, phone to his head again. 

This whole time, Benny's been drinking his beer. I'm snapped out of my reverie when I hear the loud _crunkle_ of the beer can being crushed in his fist. 

"So," he says with a too-bright smile, "that's your type, huh?" 

"Benny—" 

"Awful rude. Well, s'pose he's got a job to do. Don't imagine that hickey you're sporting had something to do with it?" 

Fuck. My hair's probably sticking up all over the place, too. Cas's certainly was, but then it pretty much always looks like that. I set my jaw. "That's none of your damn business. You came for "dinner and a show," right?" 

"Didn't get any dinner. Just as well." He brushes past me, throws the beer can in the trash.  
"I'm really sorry about your little bro. Don't you go losing your head none. You'll get to the bottom of this; it'll turn out." Benny claps me on the shoulder. 

I grab his hand before he can turn away. "Benny, listen." He raises his eyebrows and jerks his chin at me in a "go on" gesture.

"This week has been fucked. Today? Officially extra-fucked. But I wasn't lying, earlier. I do like you, mm'kay?" I squeeze his wrist. "I hope we can at least be buds." 

I look him in the eyes then, and he gives me a small smile. "Count me in, brother. Maybe you're trouble, but you're my kind of trouble. You hear?" 

"Clear as a bell. Come here." I tug him closer and plant him one straight on the mouth before I can think about it too much. He kisses me back after a sec and when it breaks, he grins at me. 

"Go get 'em, tiger. And if you holler, I'll come running, swear on my dear sainted grand-mere."


	29. Sunday: late evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a head  
> OR  
> CAN YOU FEEL THE CREAN TONIGHT?

I'm a ways out of town, almost to Olympia, before the warehouse comes into view. On the outside, it's one of those micro brew plants that've gotten ubiquitous in the past five years. 

I scrub a hand down my jaw and try to come back down off of the ledge. No matter how things shake out, all I got to get me out of this is my mouth and whatever "masculine wiles" Crowley believes I got. 

Taking a few deep breaths, I remember back to the first time I met Cas, the day I happened to see Crowley driving away.  
The irony grates. 

At the time, I'd been trying to "find my center," work through my shit by listening to a stupid tape. I'd been wishing that the days would stop running together like melted celluloid, back then. Now, everyday since, has been a frigging ordeal, stuff I'm gonna remember a long time. 

I clutch at the steering wheel and let out a deep breath. Really wish I had a damn gun in my hands. 

All I can do is storm in there, stall, and wait for the cavalry. 

As I get out of the car, bracing myself on this last anchor of familiarity, I realize it ain't all been bad. Charlie and I cleared some air. Got to see Sam. Met Benny... and Cas. Pushing off from the car, I glare at the low squat building with its crumbling faded brick and square my jaw. 

Marching straight ahead, pushing my shoulders back, I close in on the boarded over double doors. The inside smells faintly of beer, and I narrow my eyes, adjusting to the darkness. 

I yell, "Where the hell is Sam?" into the dim light as the doors swing shut behind me. 

"Calm your bloody tits, my love." Comes from somewhere distant in the darkness. 

Limelight floods the ware-house, and I shield my eyes from the glare. 

"Crowley? What the hell is this?" 

There are four people, scantily clad, standing motionless, each with their own spot-light. 

"Why darling, I thought it should be obvious," Crowley's voice crackles from a tinny overhead speaker. "It's time for the floor show." 

I groan and grind the heels of my hands into my eyes. Sighing, I walk over to the nearest performer. 

"What's he got on you? I swear it ain't worth this. Just walk away." I shout so my voice carries to the rest of the group. "I can get you all out of here! There's room in my car!" 

For all the good it does, I might as well be speaking to a frigging wax museum. Awesome. 

"Dean, be a dear and do sit in your chair. The show must go on." 

" **Fine** ," I grit out. There's a chair in the middle of the floor, and I make my way to it. "You are the most ridiculous son of a bitch I've ever met," I grumble, sitting down. 

"Comfy? Good. Action!" 

The lights go dim and strains of, of all the damn things, _Elton John_ start up and I groan. 

Grainy footage starts playing along the wall. Holy fuck, it's, it's me and Cas— 

_**Can you feel the love tonight?**_

The dancers flit around, mimicking some of the things happening. The holding, the kissing, every single little touch—it's all there on display and makes me feel raw. So hollowed out I can't even laugh at the cheesy song. 

"Crowley," I growl. It's lost in the wash of music. Fuck, this is, it's beyond embarrassing. The look on my face whenever I look at Cas, the way I angle towards him and mirror his stance when he's nearby. The song ends on footage from this morning, of Cas and I breaking apart after he'd pinned me to the door and claimed me with something too hungry and consuming to be called a kiss. 

"And that's just from this morning!" Crowley's voice crackles over the PA system. "Absolutely riveting development, very hot!" 

Next the thrumming of Lenny Kravitz's "Again" starts up. My pulse races and I shake my head in disbelief. This song had been pretty popular when—well, around the time I got arrested. Back when Crowley was my best friend/... _whatever_ and we'd been spending pretty much every day together. 

Footage from karaoke night this past Thursday, old pictures of me and Crowley, and my room-mate from college, Aaron, that I'd almost had a thing with, once. I'd still been dating Lisa then, back before she left me for her biker baby-daddy. 

_**All of my life, where've you been? I wonder if I'll ever see you again**..._

There is some _really_ private footage of me and Lis, Cassandra, various other women I'd chased, too. Fuck, does he pay someone to tail me? I'm really not that interesting... it is creepy as hell. 

The dancers, male and female, whirl around me, getting friendly with each-other. Stroking and grinding as much as the beat of the song allows. 

"Crowley!" I yell, once this little number's finished. "What the unholy **fuck** do you want?" 

"Don't dream it, be it/Fate" from the Rocky Horror Picture Show starts up, and the dancers, in various gendered combos, dance dirty with each-other. At the climax of the song, with "Don't dream it, be it," playing over and over, all four of them are slowly gliding their hands over my arms, neck, chest, thighs, and face. 

I swallow and start to get hard, despite the utter ridiculousness of it all. They alternate touching me and each-other with stripping down, one with intense blue eyes holding my gaze. My mouth has gone bone-dry and I lick my lips reflexively. 

One of the women, with a pixie-cut like Cassie, puts my hand on her bare breast. 

Flushed red, I try to look anywhere else, but everywhere is taken up with another hot dancer, enough to make any red-blooded American give pause. 

"Don't dream it, be it, Dean!" Crowley shouts through the speaker. "I see you shiver with antici—..." The other male dancer, a blond with a white patch of scruff on his chin, not unlike Benny's, trails a finger tip down my lips, chin and chest. "—pation." 

The blond dancer stops his hands at my belt buckle and twirls back with a wink. 

Crowley's voice is fervent over the speaker. "Say it, Dean! Say what you know is true! Scream it from the rooftops, or at least to me!" He steps out from the shadows, in a red and black suit. 

I scrunch my eyes shut and grit my teeth as hands, both male and female, continue to pet and tease me, glorious lithe forms literally dancing just out of my reach. 

"Fine," I growl, then take a deep breath, drawing it in through my nose and deep down to the bottom of my lungs. Screw the wire, I'm so pissed I don't even care I'm wearing it anymore. 

"You want me to say it? I'll freaking say it. 

"I, Dean Winchester, am a card-carrying bisexual, a fence-sitter, I love dick _and_ pussy. I'm not picky, I love any and _all_ combinations of dicks and holes, including my freaking own. Happy now, you demented SON OF A BITCH?" 

Crowley claps, the lights all come on, the dancers pick up thier clothes and mince off. The thudding of a helicopter whipping the wind comes from overhead. 

"Excellent progress, Dean." The short Scotsman is grinning at me. "Really wasn't so _hard_ now, was it?" He smirks at me, chin pointed at my crotch, eyebrow raised. 

I refuse to cower. "Dancers are hot. Whoop-de-freaking-do." 

"Well? What did you think of my little stage production?" Crowley clasps his hands together and brings them up under his chin in a disturbingly girlish gesture. 

I'm instantly on my feet and marching forward. I stop just short of the bastard and narrowly avoid giving into the urge to grab him by the jacket and smash him into the wall. 

" **Nothing** I didn't already know. You colossal jack-ass!" 

"Oh." Crowley's face falls, brows knitting. "More's the pity. Well, I was entertained at least." 

"This was your big play, Crowley? Cheesy "soft rock" and freaking Rocky Horror? Don't you got better things to do with your time?" My hands twitch, barely staying at my sides. Instead, my feet start taking me in a slow circle, which Crowley warily mirrors. 

He arches an eyebrow, looking up at me. "As a matter of fact, I do. _But_ , enough about me. Let's talk about you. You seem to have made some progress. Are you ready now to "taste the rainbow"?" He clasps his hands together in a weird parody of prayer. 

I grind my teeth together and look away. "Yes. **Yes** , dammit! Now give me back my brother!" 

Crowley gives me the tiniest smirk. "No. Tell me what's changed. You wouldn't so much as give me a little peck without copious amount of maryjane and liqour being involved, before.What's changed?" 

I stop walking and steady myself with a hand on a supporting pillar. "This whole... this whole everything is because I wouldn't be your secret boyfriend?" 

Crowley stops, parallel to me with a disappointed sigh, and picks at his nails. "No... it's because you wouldn't be unsecretly bi or pan or whatever it is you actually are. I thought, locked up with some other strapping young lads with daddy issues, perhaps... but no." 

"You kept me from my family, in that hell, because I wasn't out enough for you? And you want me to—Where the hell is my brother?" I start walking towards Crowley again and he slowly backs away. 

"Oh Dean. You're still doing it. You've barely learned at all, darling. I only had your best interests at heart. You will forever by my bosom companion." He stays in lock-step with me, watching my face. 

"I ain't got jack and squat to do with your twisted idea of friendship and I'm gonna keep it that way!" I advance on him, but he's fast. I'm just as far away from him as when I rushed forward. 

Crowley's hands are up near his heart, palms out in supplication. "Not so hasty, Dean. Do let's have a chat?" 

"Crowley, you had to know this was never gonna end the way you wanted it to." Again, I start walking towards him, and again, without the slightest falter, he keeps in orbit around me so we're circling each-other a-freaking-gain. 

"A lad can dream." 

"Yeah. you never dreamed of falling far from the family tree, did you?" He's yards away, and all I want to do is slap him in his stupid face. 

That pulls him up short—heh—and he stops, near the door while I'm near a boarded over window. "Why I am positively indignant! I am a gentleman thief. Not a murderer." 

"Pshaw, yeah, selling parts that'll get the world blown up to the shadiest douchebags going—no blood on your hands at all." I give him a hard stare, which he completely ignores. 

"Violence will always find a way. It's simple human nature. Might as well lay blame at the feet of engineers. Why not profit? I am merely a facilitator for those who wish for protection or leverage from the powers that be. There was a time you understood that, instead of being cozened up to **PC _bloody_ Plod**. Not that I can blame you, rather easy on the eyes, isn't he?" 

I flush and now I'm the one stopped in my tracks, mere feet away from Crowley again. "It's—it's not even, he's so smart, loyal, brave, freaking hilarious and so damn sincere—" 

"And mercurial, rude, short-tempered and rough-and-ready. But then, you did always like that, didn't you?" Crowley leans against the wall and smirks at me. 

"Shut up. You don't know what the fuck you're talking about." I've really had enough of looking at his dumb face. 

"I fancy I do. After all, first there was me. Though I was never anything save a gentleman where you were concerned." In disbelief, I look up at him. 

Crowley looks wistful. "You were my first love. I couldn't resist seeing what you were up to while in town. I've kept tabs on you, hence the archival footage. And when I saw for myself you were _still_ living in fear of your daddy's shadow... well. It's been droll." 

I get up in his face and grab him by the lapels, glaring down into his non-plussed expression. "It was _Kansas_ in the goddamn 90s. I probably would've ended up in the hospital if we skipped down the street holding goddamn hands," I spat. "Why would I chose that? Like I didn't have enough on my friggin' plate? 

"It didn't mean a damn thing. I was fucked up and going through some messed up shit." Crowley brings his hands up and closes them over my own, a flicker of sympathy crossing his face. It just pisses me off more. 

"Not hooking up with dudes? That had nothing to do with dad! It had everything to do with you fucking me over!" I let go of his jacket and shake his hands off in disgust. 

Crowley steeples his fingers together, shoulders hunching in. "Oh." 

"Yeah, **oh**. The first guy I do anything like that with, my buddy who was there for me, turns on me like that? Of course I got freaking gun-shy! You're unbelievable! 

"I trusted you and you sent me up shit creek!" I step back and draw up, attempting to tower over him. 

"Well," he flashes me a small smile, "all in the past now, isn't it? Let's let bygones, etc. 

"Before I can give you Sam, we must make a deal. And seal it with a kiss." His smirk softens to a mischievous grin, and I'm reminded for just a second why we were ever a thing. 

I clench my hands into fists and manfully resist the urge to punch him. "Fine," I grit out, "because you have Sam. What do you want and what are the terms?" 

Crowley's expression is earnest, only a slight hint of a smirk around the mouth. "When we were but wee sprogs, you wrote a piece of code meant to replicate the Apollo 11's launching and guidance systems. In return, I'll hand back your brother and never darken your door again. Deal?" 

What? Must be a thousand nerds who've done that in their spare time. What was so special bout my version? "Whatever. Done. Pucker up, I guess." 

Crowley steps forward, beaming. He... he smells really nice, actually. Kinda spicy and grassy with a hint of fine aged scotch. Some expensive cologne? My eyelids drift to half-shut, as he comes closer, but I refuse to close them as his face fills my vision; I'm watching his hands for any tricks. 

Nothing happens, other than the press of dry, surprisingly plush lips to my own. I flick my tongue out to wet them, purely on reflex and Crowley shivers, hands coming up to rest on my arms, near my shoulders. I don't want to give him an excuse for a do-over so I tilt my head and part my lips, letting him have access if he wants it. He gasps a little and my eyes do slide all the way closed then. I relive the memory of lazy summer afternoons, with nothing better to do than play Golden Eye 64, shotgun marijuana and make out, for just a moment. 

I tamp down on that ghost, swing at it with a mental iron poker, open my eyes and pull back. 

Crowley looks flustered. he licks his lips and swallows "Ah yes, that's why I keep you in the rolodex." He coughs. 

"Alright, now we've gone down memory lane, let me go home and email you a zip file of that old code so you can give me back Sammy and stay the hell away from me." 

"Will do. Keep yourself safe, Dean. So sorry about this misunderstanding. Adieu." 

Crowley casts one last look over his shoulder and walks out. Straight into a nest of cops. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes and sink down against the wall at the sound of siren. It's over. than fuck it's over. I start to shake. I hear the door open, and don't look up at the sound of footsteps. 

"Dean." It's Cas. "We got him." 

"I know. Sam?" I look up, Cas gives me a soft smile. "He's safe." 

"Where? When can I see him?" 

Cas crouches beside me puts a hand on my shoulders. "Now, if you wish. he's outside with a juice box and a blanket. " 

I put a hand on Cas's jaw and he shuts up. I try to swallow down the golf ball lodged in my throat. Slowly, we turn towards each-other and then we're kissing. I'm kissing Cas. and it's—it's nice, you know? We break it off a couple of moments later and rest our foreheads together. "Thanks, Cas. You're awesome." 

"Dean—" 

"Help me up. I gotta' check on my little brother."


	30. Sunday: late evening part two

Sam's sitting with his stupid long legs swinging down from the side of an ambulance, and the rush of relief crashes through me in a wave as I run across the parking lot to see him. "SAM!"

"Hey big brother." Sam shoots me a smile that's only slightly shaky at the edges before hopping down to meet me. He stops me with his hands on my shoulders and looks me in the face, all puppy-dog eyed concern. "Dean, are you okay?"

"Yeah, Sammy. Don't worry about me." I search his face and he doesn't look any different from this morning, really. Just worried about me. After a pointed look at his hand on my shoulder, he lets me go. I clear my throat and ask:  
"So, what happened?"

"Not much. i was just struck in a room watching netflix and Crowley wheedled a life-time all access pass out of me for my site." Sam snorts and blows some of his stupid floppy hair out of his face and Jesus, it's good to see him. I surge forward and make a Sam-burrito with the blanket they gave him for shock.  
"Ha ha, it's great to see you too, you sappy dope." 

I draw back and look at him. "You do not get to give me shit over this, bitch." 

"Jerk." a little smile tugs at the corner of Sam's mouth and eyes. "What happened in there?" 

"Just had a little heart-to-heart. Turns out it was all just a big misunderstanding." I make a face at the sour taste it leaves in my mouth. "That freak thought he was doing me favours." 

"That's... different." 

"Forget about it, Sammy. I don't want to think about that right now." 

"Ok, fair enough. Let's go home." 

"Best idea I've heard all damn day."  
  


  
***  


  


I drag the mattress off of my bed and set it up next to the couch. Sam'll be back when shit goes to trial, I mean if Crowley doesn't manage to escape. I'm kinda secretly grateful that he's gonna have an excuse to me by more often for awhile.I'm still not sure I how I feel about the past few days. So much crap has happened. 

Sam and I lean our backs to it, asses on the mattress, and watch whatever on TCM until we pass out. 

***  


  


I can barely conceive of it, but it's Monday morning and I'm awake at my usual time. 

While I lay there wallowing in drowsiness and general disbelief, my phone goes off. I fumble with it and squint to find a text from Gabriel: 

_we got a mountain of dragons to slay, you better not be skipping out, Winchester!_

 _Wouldn't dream of it_

Wonder if I should email that old code to Crowley? Just in case, I mean. Ehh, I can do it later. Have to boot up an ancient laptop I use as a dos-box to get at it, anyway.


	31. Monday: afternoon

It's been a long morning and afternoon of picking apart the code all the juniour devs slap-dashed together in a sleep-deprived haze of patching over the weekend. 

When I finally get up from my desk and head to get my food out of the fridge, Gabe corners me in the lunchroom. "How was your date last night?" 

"Like you don't know." I grab a fork from the stash of plastic ones in the cupboard and set it down on the counter. 

"Hey, I only know Cas's side of things, and he was preoccupied with Sam." Gabe puts his food in the microwave. 

I dig through the fridge and come up with some crap I grabbed from the deli before work. "Went pretty bad. Well I don't think Benny's too pissed at me. After that whole mess with Crowley I ended up watching movies with Sam until we passed out—" 

"Oh yeah, when he's going back?" 

I take the lid off the pasta salad, and dig in with a fork. "Tuesday, I guess. He'll be coming by more often for awhile, though. Cause of the trial." 

The microwave beeps and Gabe turns his back to me, speaking over his shoulder as he grabs his food. "It's too bad you guys don't see more of each other. Guess your fear of flying gums things up, huh?" 

"Yeah, but you're right. Sam's all I've got left." I continue eating, leaning against the counter. 

Gabe stirs fried rice with what looks like a ridiculous amount of pineapple in it. "So, when's your house getting debugged? Wouldn't want to spill any state secrets where "the man" could hear." 

"Pff, you mean your little brother? He'll be in when I get home from work. No big deal." 

"Not gonna bust out the black satin thong and velvet ropes, Winchester?" Gabe smirks at me, shovels in a big spoonful of food, and I refuse to look away. 

I spear my noodles viciously. "Why? You want the vicarious pleasure of banging one of us? Which one?" 

Gabe chokes on his rice and my eyes narrow in satisfaction. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Don't blame you. I'd do him. Hell, I'd do _me_." I shoot him a smirk of my own and we start laughing, food spraying here and there. It's gross, but I'm really past caring what we look like. 

"Hey now." Gabe cradles his rice with one hand, salutes me with his spoon with the other. "So sue me. Can't blame me for being curious. Cassie's always come to me with _all_ his burning questions." He waggles his eyebrows at me. 

I raise an eyebrow, my lips pursing. 

"You should've seen him, Dean. All precious and naive. Adorably awkward." 

"I bet," I mutter. Hell, Cas is like that _now_ , even though the only lead-in he seems to know to get a motor running is kicking it over as hard as he can. "How come you've never talked about him before? You guys seem pretty close." 

Gabe shrugs and chews for a little while. With a sigh, I continue eating. 

While I'm busy, he swallows and answers. "I wanted him to have a fair chance to get to know you, OK? In neutral ground, where you'd both be a bit looser than usual. 

"I thought you guys would get along like a house on fire, but I thought there was a fair chance of you both putting up these stupid fronts if you went into it with all these ideas of what you're supposed to be like ahead of time." 

That... made a lot of sense, actually. But it still didn't answer my biggest question mark when it came to Cas. "Listen, Gabe..." I scratch at the back of my neck, face getting warm. "Do you... um. Do you know why when Cas is uh...." 

I look at Gabe and he's barely containing his glee, curiosity just keeping him in check enough to not pull ridiculous faces. 

He twirls his fingers in a "go on" gesture. 

I pinch the bridge of my nose, clear my throat, and try again. "Everytime he's hit on me, he's gotten up close and personal. **Real** personal. It uh, it almost feels like—" assault. Like jail, enough that it freeezes me up every damn time in a tangled knot of lust and fear. But I can't say that. "He's either off or on. Do you know what his deal is?" 

Gabe worries at his bottom lip with his teeth. "Maaaaybee...." I hold my breath. "Back when he was in vice I told him, people find confidence the sexiest thing. So if he was feeling it, to just go for it, you know? Go all in, you'll get further begging forgiveness than asking permission." 

He shovels in some more rice, then scrapes his spoon along the container for stray bits. "Seems to have worked for him," he says, too casually. 

"Yeah, OK. You are **banned** from giving dating advice to your socially tone-deaf brother, mm'kay? If he asks you, say he has to talk to Charlie on pain of you losing your left nut." 

A bunch of emotions flicker across Gabe's face: confusion, anger, relief, and scorn, before settling on a smooth, bland smile. He winks and clucks his tongue.   
"You got it. So what did he..." 

"Let's just say he's got a thing about pressing my back onto uncomfortable surfaces and leave it at that." 

Gabe raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth. 

" **And leave it at that** ," I cut him off. 

Turning my back on him, I make my way back to my desk, container in hand, gut in knots. 

Yeah, I can't ignore that I really respond when Cas is all—my ears burn, and I force myself to finish the thought— dominant. 

It's not like... it's not a mystery, where I land on the BDSM spectrum of things. And part of me, it really likes not having to think. Likes everything happening so fast I can't question things or get all caught up in the mental gymnastics from things being with another dude. Even if it dredges up shit I left burned and buried a long fucking time ago. 

But I—I swallow and sit at my desk, tapping my fingers on my thighs while I wait for my computer to wake up— 

I don't _want_ to rush things with Cas. I know he can be tender, not just intense—I flash back to the Thursday, to him cuddling me through my panic attack. Keeping watch. Then and the nights that've followed. How everytime I called, he either came running or talked me down off the ledge. Guy's got a protective streak a mile long. 

He can be tender, and I want that tenderness. Want all of him. Easy and relaxed, sprawled under me, fingers lazily stroking my hair while I'm—while I'm on my knees in front of him. 

Swallowing him down. Looking after him. Crossing that final barrier with open eyes and a clear head. 

I... I want that, yeah. My throat burns and I feel in ache in my gut with it. Monday can't end fast enough. I don't taste the rest of my lunch.


	32. Monday: evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas makes a poet out of Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearly finished, guys. I'll have the rest up on Saturday. This has been a long time coming... Thanks to everyone who's patiently been taking this journey with me, writing it has really helped me, both in terms of becoming a better writer and a better person .

Sam's out chasing down some leads on equipment to make his new vision for cinema-verite peeping Tom porn happen when Cas comes over to debug the house. 

I let him in and step well out of the way. He's brisk, all business as he yanks every single last piece of equipment out of the place. It takes like an hour but he insists on doing it all himself. He swears when he finds ones that weren't there when the team put theirs in. 

I walk over to him and put a hand over his, stroking my thumb along the arch. "It's OK, Cas. You got him." 

"I know." He frowns and lets out a sigh. "I still feel I've failed you in some manner." 

"So why was it, you know, OK... uh, what happened Sunday before we went to the roadhouse?" 

Cas looks down, eyes tracing a gap in the tile of my kitchen floor. "I had evidence Crowley had infiltrated your apartment and placed bugs of his own. I was worried I wouldn't be able to control my behaviour after.... after Saturday night, when I saw you again. I convinced my superiors that we were going to put on a show to antagonize Crowley, possibly force him to show his hand sooner." 

"Oh." I swallow and lick my lips. "You..." words fail me. 

His eyes are wide and sincere when he looks back up at me. "It wasn't... calculated, Dean. The only thing I was allowing for was rationalization of my own lack of self-control." 

He cants his head, listening for something I can't hear. His lashes cast long shadows on his cheeks as the sun has started to go down. "Please believe me." He's drawn in on himself, and it's the only time I've ever seen him look small. 

I can't fucking bear it. I take his face in my hands, ears fitting between my thumbs and the rest of my fingers, and stroke his cheek bones, swiping at the dampness there. "I do. Shh." 

For the first time since I nearly puked on him, I initiate the kiss, keeping my gaze steady until right near the end, where it drops down to his lips right before my eyes close. 

Cas is motionless, and I pour myself into the kiss; it slowly deepens and he's kissing me back. Meeting me halfway. Then more than halfway. His tongue is deep in my mouth and he pushes me down onto the couch. 

I draw away and break for air, panting. "Cas.... Cas, slow down, okay?' 

Our fingers are laced over my head, his grip on me so strong, and it's so fucking arousing, but... 

"Dean?" Cas stops sucking at my skin, grazing my neck with his teeth. "Dean I—I don't understand." His worried blue eyes come into view, river at dusk. 

"Cas this is... it's really hot and all, you know?" 

"Good," he growls. Lips falling on my own and ravaging them. I give in for a moment, unmoored with the dizzying heat of it, feeling like I'm swaying despite being flat on my back in my living room. 

Slowly, I swim back up from the flood of lust. I turn the kiss into something gentler, and eventually we break for air. Cas is giving me a confused look. 

"Dean, what's wrong? I thought..." 

I meet his gaze steadily. "I want this to last, Cas. You and me. I want to draw it out, the first time, I—" I can't look at him anymore, it's too damn sappy to say. 

He lets go of my hands, grab my chin. "Dean, talk to me. I need to know what you _need_." 

"Aww geez, Cas." I squirm, still trying to look away. "I want—I want to savour this, okay? Our first time and every damn time after. So don't—don't think I'll change my mind with space to think. I'm not going anywhere. I'm done running." 

Sitting back on his heels, he glows, nearly other-worldly as his stare burns into me. "Tell me what you want, Dean." 

Outside, the sun breaks through the clouds, and his hair shines a rich nut brown halo. My breath catches in my throat. All the air's been squeezed out of my lungs. It's a frigging weird thing to think, but, he doesn't look human. 

Love, infinite implacable patience, steel in his resolve, fire: it all swirls in his eyes. 

All the thoughts I couldn't voice, like it's bad enough I'm submissive, and to a man, do I have to say something so damn sappy, too—fly out of my head. 

"Make love to me, Cas," I gasp. 

His eyes widen, owl huge. "Dean—" he bites his lip, here, human again—"I've never..." 

I reach for his hand where it's curled on his thigh, and squeeze it.  
"It'll be ok, Cas. We'll figure it out, together." 

His eyes find mine then, and he squeezes back as a smile like dawn breaks across his face. Like that first ray of light after the longest, darkest night of the year, gathering strength until it's refracted a hundred-fold on glistening banks of snow, diamond-bright and blinding. 

"I... I want to make love to you, too." My cheeks burn, but I force myself to keep going.  
"I wanna' feel every inch of you, kiss every part of you, and I, uh... I don't mean the, the uh... Hell Cas, I don't mean just between your legs." 

My courage builds as his smile turns shy. I look him dead in the eye and say, "I need to worship you, Cas. I want to cherish you, all of you. From your awkwardness to your loyalty, your crappy puns to your filthy mouth. I want all of it. All of—" He cuts me off with his lips. 

His kiss is slow, just his mouth brushing mine while we angle our faces to try to get as much contact as possible. 

He presses forward, his body covering mine again, and the drumming of my heart matches his where our chests are joined. 

His hand finds the nape of my neck, and his palm cushions my head. Something deep within me unfurls. A tension I somehow never realized I was carrying my entire frigging life relaxes. I've found my partner. I've found the one person that can help carry the burden, that I can trust the same way I do Sam. 

The knowledge floods me, a deep resonance shivering through my bones like a tuning fork being struck, and my eyes prickle with stupid, girly tears at—at the wave of awe rolling through me. "Cas," I gasp. "Tell me, tell me—" 

"I feel it, too," there's naked wonder in his voice. My god, we're only kissing with our clothes on, holding on for dear life, and it feels like this? 

Suddenly I'm eager and greedy again, wanting everything at once, and I claim Cas's mouth. 

I claim thee in the name of the country of Dean Winchester. My hands find Cas's hair and I grab on, searching out every last corner of his mouth, every minute difference in texture I can find, every last trace of wet silken heat. 

"Dean," Cas groans. 

Why are we wearing so many fucking clothes? Something is fundamentally **wrong** with the universe. 

Cas breaks away from me while I scrabble at his clothes. "These. _Off. Now._ " 

Wordlessly, Cas takes off his shirt, and I know the meaning of glory as the fading rays of daylight highlight all the lines of muscle, shining on his tan skin. 

"Baby," I mutter, reverent. "God." 

"You've mistaken me for someone else. I'm Castiel." His look is bashful, smile tugging at the corner of his lips; I laugh, the intensity that gripped me feverishly is broken, and I can breathe again. 

"Let me up." 

Cas scoots off of me, standing in front of the couch, looming, somehow making me think of fallen stars as the golden wash of light from sunset starts fading. I take off my shirt, forcing my hands to be slow and steady, fighting the momentary surge of panic when he's out of sight while pulling it over my head. 

"I'm calm," I say as I put my shirt aside. I take a deep breath and pat the seat besides me. "Let's just make out for awhile." 

Cas's eyes are full with something I can't readily define, and he takes my hand again, other hand stroking down my neck and staying there. We close the gap, but instead of kissing, our foreheads rest together. 

"I understand, now." His breath ghosts across my cheek. I put my hand over his heart, feel its slow steady beat.  
"I never before understood why sex is sometimes referred to as love-making. I do not foresee further... difficulty with assisting you in this manner."

I laugh, he sounds so much like freaking Data from Star Trek. He backs up to glare at me, but there's warmth and mischief making his eyes glow and softening the corners of his mouth, crinkling it at his eyes. 

"I'm serious." 

"I know." I laugh again (in sheer joy) and crawl over him, straddling his lap. His hands go to my hips and I put my arms over his shoulders, grinning down at him. "And I'm seriously gonna kiss you within an inch of your damn life, right here and now." I do so.


	33. Tuesday

It's not sad, exactly, seeing Sam off to be swallowed by one of those tin can death traps; it feels more like taking a deep breath after being underwater for a long time. 

"Here we are, good old Seatac." I stop the Impala at departures and look over at Sam. 

Sam smiles with half his mouth. "It's far from the worst airport, believe me." 

" **Any** damn airport I'm at is the worst airport." I scowl. 

Sam laughs and gives me a one-armed hug. "Don't ever change, Dean. Would be nice if you visited sometime, though." 

I duck my head. "I'll drive down for xmas this year. "M-maybe Cas, too," I add in a smaller voice. 

"It's that serious, huh?" 

I look Sam dead in the eye.  
"Like cancer, man." I swallow, trying to put the mental image of mom, wasted and frail but still beautiful, as the big C had swallowed her whole. 

"Mom'd be proud. I think she'd really like him. I wasn't really trying anything with him, you know?" 

I look away. "Kind of uh, got that when I stalked you on your date." 

"You what? Hahaha, you dick." 

"I know, believe me. Well it's not as pathetic as it sounds. I had a date, too." I flash him a grin. 

"Dude, seriously? You dragged someone along for that mess? Don't tell me it was Cassie? You need to talk to her, you know." 

"No, man... um, a guy named Benny." 

"Oh, that guy you were asking Gabe about." Sam snorts. "He must have the patience of a saint." 

"You're not wrong. I think... we're gonna be really good friends. Sometimes," I take a deep breath, "you meet somebody, there's this spark, this like, pull, and it takes awhile to resolve itself, one way or the other." Like with Charlie. Firmly in the family category, but the need to be close to her is so strong it's confusing as hell sometimes. 

"And you're hoping..." 

"I don't know, Sam. Maybe he's someone I need around. Maybe. That's all I got right now. We gonna put on some nice chamomile tea and braid each-other's hair now, or are you gonna head back to that god-forsaken tarpit you call home?" 

Raising an eyebrow, Sam favours me with a smile. "Being in love with somebody doesn't mean being exclusive, you know? Hell, it doesn't have to mean loving only one person, Dean." Sam takes my hands, hits me full-on with the puppy dog eyes. "Okay? Keep an open mind." 

"Take your damn grubby free love flower child paws _off_ me and get out of here." I grumble, then squeeze his hands anyway, and he lets go. 

"Dean—" 

"I will, OK? Happy?" 

"Much as I could be, given I didn't get to knock two items off my bucket list at once." He grins up at me, swinging his duffel over his shoulder. I wrinkle my nose. 

"Eww." 

"You're one lucky son of a bitch." 

"We have the same damn mother, Sam." 

He freaking winks at me and gets out without another word. We wave goodbye through the car window. My chest hurts with pride and love straining to burst me open. I watch Sam go. That damn kid. Even though I'm the oldest, he's still teaching me stuff. 

He's right, though. I _do_ gotta talk to Cassandra.  
  


  
***

  


I'm at home, having finished cleaning up from dinner and unable to procrastinate any longer. "Hey uh, how you been?" 

Cassandra's voice is excited but with an undertone of worry through the cell's speaker. "Better than you, apparently! You've been all over the news! Things have calmed down now?" 

"Yeah. I um... you know why I haven't been in touch." I turn the t.v. on, put the sound on mute. 

She laughs. "It's only been a couple of days, I'm not _that_ insecure. I didn't try to get a hold of you because I figured I wouldn't get a response anyway. It's nice to know what was bothering you, I just wish I'd found out another way." 

"About that... it's um. It's not what you think. Well okay, it sort of is, but um—" I restlessly scroll through my netflix queue, half-reading descriptions of various shows on there. 

"It's okay, Dean. Just slow down and take it from the top." 

My heart clenches at her tone, which is somehow calm, warm, and commanding at once. She's a nurse, after all. She's used to people freaking out. More, it reminds me of why we have such good chemistry. She is—was—my domme. Sort of. Our sex hadn't exactly been a hundred percent vanilla, but once our relationship was over we didn't do much of the D/S side of things anymore. She'd been happy enough to let me boss her around on Friday night, but of course she knew something was wrong. 

I take a deep breath and let it out."Ok. Cassie I uh, I met someone." 

"That's wonderful news! When can I meet him?" 

"Wh-what?" I nearly drop the phone, and the remote falls out of my other hand, pausing over a thumbnail of "Velvet Goldmine." 

I hear her smile over the line. "I saw you guys together on the news. I can put two and two together. But only because I know you, Dean. Don't worry." 

I lick my lips and just try to remember to breathe. 

"It's OK, take your time." 

"H-how long have you..." 

"Dean, it's like you forget I went to school with you and Crowley back when you were a thing. It was kind of obvious when I hung out with you guys." Her voice lowers a little, "Especially with how uh, cuddly of a drunk you are." 

"I am _so n_ —" 

Her laughter peals. "Save your story for someone buying. Look, I get that the "benefits" part of our friendship is over, alright? But once things are a bit less new with you and Officer sexy, I'd love it if you had me as a third. Just saying, offer's on the table." 

Some gear has slipped somewhere in my brain, because everything ground to a halt awhile back and I swear I smell something frying. "Cassie—" 

"We're good, Dean. Promise. Pinky-swear, even. I'm always gonna be there for you. Let's do lunch on my birthday, OK?" 

Oh, so a couple weeks out. "S-sure." 

"When we played with another woman, you know what I got out of it, right? I've never wanted to push you since you went to jail, but you know, bi-solidarity. Feel free to text me whenever." 

"You're a good friend, Cassie." I can't process the idea of her and Cas getting freaky with me right now. It's uh... I shove it down. "You remember Charlie, right? I've been talking to her some..." 

"Yeah, of course. That's good. I just want you to be happy. I hope we can keep being friends." 

I snort and pick the remote back up. "Duh. You're not shaking me that easy, not after 18 years." 

"Atta' boy. Don't worry me like that again, OK?" 

"You bet." 

We hang up and I start the damn movie, after waiting nearly eighteen years to watch it.


	34. No day like today

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!

Life eventually settles into a new kind of rhythm; it's not exactly awesome with the hours Cas works, but we manage to see lots of each-other. Neither of us has ever needed much sleep. Cas continues on in Burglary, and thinks about transferring to homicide sometimes. Whenever we talk about it, he worries about taking his work home with him though. 

Crowley goes to trial, Sam comes and goes, and that crap is all pretty stressful, but on trial days I get to see Sam or Cas, sometimes both, and that's pretty awesome. 

Crowley seems almost cheerful throughout the proceedings, weirdly with the air of a workaholic taking a forced vacation. I feel a niggling doubt that he's actually going to **stay** in jail, but whatever. It's out of my hands. At least I know he never meant me any real harm. I kind of wish he was doing a bit better, but not enough to refrain from testifying against him. The shit he did/does is messed up as Hell, and he deserves whatever's coming to him. 

  
  
***

  


I see Cassie once in awhile and eventually she and Cas meet; I recognize the look on her face as she sees Castiel is even better looking in person and can only sit through our watching the new Marvel film with a feeling of smug satisfaction. Cas's hand is possessive on my thigh the entire time, and a few times I feel Cassandra's hand brushing against my own as we eat popcorn and it's not bad at all. Maybe someday... but I'm not there yet, not totally willing to share. 

At the end of our movie night, Cas and Cassandra share a long stare as they shake hands goodnight. Sweat beads on my forehead as I watch, and then Cassandra is standing up on tiptoe to whisper into my boyfriend's ear, and whatever she says makes him blush. 

Cassandra backs up and grins, then looks over at me and laughs at the expression on my face. "You two make a really sweet couple. Stay in touch, OK?" 

I mumble assent, we hug goodbye, and Cas and I both watch her go before I snap out of it and come close to him. 

"Hey, what did she say to you?" 

"She... said that I can come to her with questions about your... likes, as someone who has dommed you. That if I want dating advice, she can supply that as well... provided I give her _all_ of the details." 

"Oh my god." I scrub a hand down my jaw. "That's—" 

"Very thoughtful. It is good you have such an open-minded friend. I am sure she can help me with any... plans I may have in the future." 

I don't even know what to say to that. "Dude, she like..." the thought of Cas talking naughty to Cassandra, sparing no detail makes my gut flip. It's uncomfortable as Hell, but it's also... it's also kind of hot. Does this tie into that exhibitionism thing I maybe have? 

At the same time though... "She wants you to talk dirty to her about me. About uh, about you **and** me..." 

Cas tilts his head to one side. "Hmm. Technically true... nonetheless." He shrugs. 

"I'd rather you find out firsthand what I like, but nevermind." I squeeze his hand quickly. "Let's turn in. I know I only got you for a couple more hours before your shift starts." 

Grabbing my shoulder, Cas turns me back around. He regards me evenly as he brings his mouth to my own. My breath catches. I'm not totally cool with PDAs, but for Cas... I stay still. The gentle press of his lips steadies me. 

I blink and he's stepping back, brushing a thumb over my cheek as we part. He links our fingers and we march back to the car.  
  


***

  


Benny becomes a fixture in my life, we hang out every couple of weeks, get drunk off our asses and cook shit so awesome that everyone comes over begging to try it. Things often devolve into a kitchen party or ridiculous re-enactments of our favourite scenes from old Clint Eastwood movies. 

Charlie shows no signs of settling down; in fact she's stepped up to a position even further over my head and spends a lot of time flying everywhere, which makes her really happy. She still always has time for me. 

Gabe pretty much keeps on as he has been, letting his freak flag fly and staying a bachelor. We still talk to each-other pretty much every day. He and Sam talk a _lot_ , actually. Eventually the little gremlin gets it into his head that he's going to help Sam with the sys admin side of things, so he flies down to LA once in awhile for that, and cuts his hours some at work to make sure stuff is going smoothly on that end. I _do not ask_ about how they spend their time together. 

My little brother keeps up his porn company, and is so ridiculously successful that he eventually starts financing regular films. Like, little indie pictures that the big studios wouldn't give the time of day. 

Maybe someday Cas and I will move in together, get a dog, adopt a kid. Maybe move to where Sam is. For now, I'm just enjoying living in the moment.

  
  
***

  


It's a Thursday night, and I'm cuddled up with Cas, who's half-dozing and sort of listening to the BBC radio play of Hitchiker's guide to the galaxy with me as he fades in and out. Turns out just doing what you enjoy and having someone to cuddle with works a lot better in terms of unwinding and passing the time than self-help tapes. 

He gives a sleepy chuckle, and unable to help myself, I press a kiss to his temple. "Heya' Cas." I fiddle with my phone and close the app, stopping the file. 

"Hello, Dean." 

I push him down by the shoulders so he's flat on his back, and climb on top of him, cuddling him koala-style, pushing my nose in under his ear. He smoothes a hand down my back and a wave of peace flows over me. I start to tremble. I can't believe I get to have this, that this is my life now. 

"Hello is the term, isn't it? What's wrong?" 

I kiss down his neck to hide whatever stupid expression is probably on my face. "Nothing." I let out a shaky sigh, then turn my face and kiss his neck. 

Cas yawns, then brings his hand up to stroke my hair. He scratches lightly, like I'm a cat, before leaving his hand to rest on the back of my neck. It grounds me. 

"I'm just happy. I guess in a way I have Sam's dumb self-help tapes to thank for bringing us together." 

"Oh? Oh yes, you were listening to one the day we met..." 

"Yeah. I couldn't listen to it at my desk, so...." 

Cas rubs his thumb in a circle, around one of the bones there. I shiver.  
"Dean, you should continue to try to improve yourself. A relationship, no matter how wonderful, can ultimately only offer support, not actual self-improvement." 

I push up and look at him, ignoring the small ache I feel at putting distance between us, even if it's to look him in the face. "I'm serious, I'm happy." 

He's black and white in the moonlight, pupils huge, and gravely serious. "We're still in the honeymoon phase, Dean.  
"The problems, the baggage we both brought into this relationship—it won't go away without being dragged into the light, acknowledged, and ultimately accepted and forgiven." 

"I know, alright? Listen, I'm going to really work on being "all I can be" so don't worry about it. I'm gonna go to the range and practice more often. I'm not gonna... talk about it much, but I'm going to see a counselor, once a week or so. About... the self-loathing and the... the crap from when I was a kid." 

Cas cups my face in both hands and kisses me slowly, tenderly, then. And it... it feels like everything is going to be OK. My heart skips a beat and I relax into the kiss, trusting him, giving myself to him. Maybe I'll... I'll actually be able to tell him how goddamn much I love him someday. 

Maybe it'll even be sooner rather than later. For now, I let my body do the talking. 

"Cas," I murmur against his lips as our kiss ends. "I know we've been taking it slow, but I—I want to..." 

It should be patronizing, but it isn't, when he says "Be a good boy for me, Dean." My dick perks up and I arch into his touch as he slowly trails his fingers down my spine. "Tell me what you want to do to me." 

"I want to make you feel good. With my mouth. I..." I take in a sharp breath, meeting his gaze. "I want to suck you, baby." 

Cas gives my ass a squeeze, then gives it a gentle swat. "Very good. I would like that." 

"A-alright. I'm gonna... totally do that then." Slightly chapped lips find mine again then, still wet from our previous kiss, and Cas's tongue slips out to swipe across. I relax a little, and force my shoulders to unbunch. It's Ok. It's **Cas**. I can do this. 

"Don't push yourself, beloved. Only do what you wish to do." My heart stutters, and I do blush then, not knowing what to do with myself at the endearment. I force myself to look up from my intent studying of my boyfriend's collarbones and meet his eyes.  
Love, compassion, infinite patience, calm acceptance... 

I can't. I crumple under the weight of his regard and slide down, dropping kisses on his neck, collarbones, breastbone, down, down... to the left of his belly button, down... I pause to kiss and lick at his hard abs, and hear Cas gasp above me. It makes me smile and I feel a little braver. 

Resting a hand on the sharp curve of his hip, I pause to nuzzle at the narrow trail of hair that's longer and thicker, denser, the closer it grows to his cock. I inhale the scent, trying to get used to it. After a few moments of alternating nuzzling and kissing, Cas calls my name softly. 

"Whatever you like, love... do what makes you happy. Even if it's just this. It's OK, Dean." 

Cas and I have... we've uh, frotted, I guess. And masturbated together. We've slowly, carefully been finding a balance between being just "Dean and Cas" and "a sub and his dom". 

This is just... it's different. That was all in the heat of the moment type stuff, and yeah, I'm.... I'm pretty damn hard, okay, but this is. It's super gay. I know that's stupid. We were cuddling naked in bed, and It's Cas and I'm in love with him, and God I want him so bad, but still I hesitate. I don't know why. 

That stuff that happened when I was a kid, when I was in jail, it wasn't anything like this. Cas has never been anything aside from calm and accepting since that day I told him I wanted to make love with and to him, and the praise he gives me whenever we're intimate is like a drug. 

Helplessly, I look up to him for guidance and he puts his hand in my hair. His eyes are wide and dark. "Do you want a push? Do you wish for me to..." He trails off, eyes wide and so full of compassion, I drown. 

I swallow and force myself to hold his gaze. "T-... tell me what to do, Cas. Tell me... tell me I'm good." 

Cas trembles beneath me, and he bolts up, scooping me into his arms. "Dean. Dean..." He kisses my hair, over and over, and I shake in his arms. 

"You are good, you are so good, and I'm sorry, so sorry, that for so long, no one has ever told you that, or not told you enough. You do not need to bring me sexual pleasure for me to love you, to care about you. Oh Lord, Dean..." 

Shit. I'm... I feel Cas's tears hot on the other side of my face, his cheek and mine damp where they press together. 

"I want... Cas, I want to give you everything. I'm not... I'm not worth much—" 

"Dean—No. Do you trust me?" 

"Yes. I... I trusted you with my brother. You gotta know that's the highest compliment you can get from me, right?" 

Somehow, this manages to pull a weak chuckle out of Cas, and I manage to stop shaking like a freaking girl. 

"Then trust me when I tell you you're worth it, Dean. Worthy of me, worthy of all the good in your life, of all the adoration, love, affection all of your friends and family have for you. Trust me. Please Dean, trust me on this." 

This startles a laugh out of me. "Believe in the me who believes in you, huh?" 

A resigned sigh puffs against my sweaty hair. "If you must, yes." 

"OK. I'll... I'll try my best to believe that. In the meantime, though..." I pull back and stroke away his tears with my thumb, ignoring the cooling tracks my own are making down my face.  
"I want to make you feel good. You know, a thank-you for putting up with me being a pain in your ass." 

Cas groans and rolls his eyes. "Dean you don't owe me anythi—" 

I've darted back down and taken his half-hard length into my mouth in its entirety. Okay, it's... it's odd. But I'm not going to let myself think about this. I have one too, and this is just another part of Cas. That stuff, all that crap I got in juvie, the guys who... did stuff to me before I learned how to fight, the names they called me, that was a long time ago. Cas is here and now. 

I hold his cock in my mouth and slowly swirl my tongue up along it; Cas moans quietly and places his hand back in my hair, gently rubbing circles at one of my temples with his thumb. 

"Such a good boy for me, Dean. Taking all of my sex into your mouth. And your tongue is so clever, you're doing such a good job..." 

Encouraged, I suck gently and Cas gets harder, starting to pop up out of my mouth. This is—it's strangely addictive. I can get used to this. I taste a bit of salt and Cas is so silky in my mouth, hard and starting to throb. It's heady; I start to feel dizzy and it's not just from the unfamiliar action of sucking for awhile. 

I could really get used to this. I'm getting really hard again, and I shift around. I'm not gonna touch myself though... this is about Cas. I reach down and unstick my junk from where it got glued to my leg by sweat, and manage to let go of the tape that always plays over and over in my head when stuff like this happens. 

I pull off of Cas's dick, and lick it all over, up and down every inch, and he murmurs encouragements and endearments, like: "So good, sweetheart, you're doing so well" and "yes, slowly, like that". 

My jaw starts to get tired, so I rest my mouth on his thigh, occasionally darting out soft licks to the head while I pump his shaft. I want so badly for him to come. I need to know I did this for him, that I made him feel so good he got off on it. 

"Dean," he whispers. "Do you wish for me to orgasm?" 

I groan. "Yes, God yes, Cas." 

He tugs at my hair and I follow it, looking up at him. 

"Beg me, Dean. Beg me pretty for your daddy to blow his load for you." 

My vision greys out for half a second, that sent so much fucking blood to my dick. I throb and rub myself into the mattress.  
"Caaaas..." 

I'm so turned on all my fucks have gone straight out the window. I lick at his slit and pump him like he told me he liked, as he'd coached me this past while, and say:  
"Please daddy, come all over my face. Come for me, please, please paint me white, mark me with your come." I'm red with equal parts humiliation and arousal, but God help me, this is literally everything I want. 

"Good boy," Cas growls. "You're gonna get what you deserve, a nice big load for a job well done, my beautiful, sexy little lover." I jack Cas off just a little faster, and watch my hand on him, watch his slit, and then I see him spasm and the hole flare open, and it's coming out and I don't know if I've ever been more aroused in my entire frigging life as it hits me in the cheek and splashes up above my eyebrow. I see it pushing in waves over Cas, more jets out, and I try to catch it in my mouth; it mostly misses but I get a little on my lips. 

I lick it off and since I'm not a stranger to eating my own, I just note the differences and mentally shake it off. I can try to figure out why it tastes different being someone else's later. Hopefully that someone is Cas. 

He lies there for a moment, shaking, and I don't know what to do, if he's too sensitive and I shouldn't try to clean him, or if he'd like that—I just don't know. So I kiss his thigh and try not to hump the mattress like a dog in heat. 

A beat later, he murmurs, "Get up here." 

I scramble to comply, and he sets me on my side, chest pressed to the side of his ribcage. He kisses me slowly and deeply, drawing great lungfuls of air in-between kisses before grasping my chin in one hand and turning my face towards his shoulder. He licks his come off of my face and praises me more, before sliding his hand down to grab my dick. 

"You were so good, so good for a first time, and you looked so hot sucking my dick, so fucking hot with my semen smeared on your face, Beloved..." He jacks me and I cry out, tensing and shuddering, unable to help thrusting into his hand, slick with my precome. 

"Shhh... shh, I got you, love. Feel good for me. Come for me. It's alright. Be a good boy and come for me." He kisses my gasping mouth, and a high thin whine sticks in the back of my throat, coming out through my nose as I spasm, the tension in my gut letting go like a guitar string snapping, a wave of orgasm so intense I see black for a second as I shake apart in the arms of the love of my life. 

"CAS!" I yell, spurting over and over, a sweaty, shaky, spasming mess, and then it's over, lower waves of pleasure curling through me as I come down from the high-water mark, coming back up for air, panting. Dazed, we lie there for awhile, alternately panting and trading soft kisses. 

When it's time for Cas to clean up and go to work, I just let myself drift off after he kisses me goodnight. We're going to have a long and happy life together, and I want every day to be like today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The irony of this fic kills me, because I started writing it solely because I wanted hot cop Cas on civilian Dean action, and instead it turned into heart-wrenching love-making in the end. A time stamp or two is probably coming at some point.
> 
> This turned into an exploration of what would Dean be like if he'd gone to jail instead of Hell, and had Mary's softening influence instead of just John's when he was a teenager. How'd I do? 
> 
> Thanks everyone. Special thanks to my subscribers, just knowing a couple dozen of you guys were signed on to follow this despite it being a WIP gave me the fortitude to soldier on at times. I hope you enjoyed this story. Please remember to feed the attention-starved comment whore of an authour. 
> 
> Extra special thanks to hit_the_books, because without her that last love scene would not exist.


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